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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28781616">but there is something in the sky that glows</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittercherry/pseuds/glittercherry'>glittercherry</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>GOT7, JJ Project</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Violence, Music, chaeyoung cameo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:20:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>30,969</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28781616</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittercherry/pseuds/glittercherry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The city is always hungry, always dangerous, neon over dirt. The sky is always an oppressive orange tint, making every day in Jaebeom's life feel exactly like the one before. On the other side, in the upper blocks, an exhausted Jinyoung tries to keep his body going as he performs over and over for holographic concerts over the globe.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>JJP Big Bang</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was said—in the casual, detached way that authorless phrases are quoted, and novel curse words are spread, and empty wisdom is passed around—that looking at the sky at least three times a day was the mark of a day well spent. </p>
<p>Jaebeom remembered this often, for some reason. He thought about it as he dragged himself toward the tiny box he called home, looking up to the inflamed orange of the city lights reflected on layers and layers of dirt. He fleetingly wondered if he could tally up his days well spent under the endless, oppressive light.</p>
<p>The quote was probably said by someone who could still see the stars from time to time. </p>
<p>His journey was the same day after day, to the point where his body made it without him being consciously aware of it. </p>
<p>Ten blocks walking under multicolored neon signs, the air loud and heavy with the smell of food, crowds moving in every direction and avoiding looking at each other. Maybe newcomers gaped at the height of the skyscrapers in every direction, maybe they actually took in the sight of the billboards and the food shops and the cacophony of voices and conversations half yelled in multiple hybrid languages. Nobody who’d spent enough time in the city did anymore.</p>
<p>Half an hour on transport. The buses were decades old, rust flowering from under the layers of paint, covered from top to bottom with ads for everything that nobody looked at. The seats had no foam left, just plastic polished shiny with the years, but every day the advertising screens showed new products, the always bright billboards that never went hours broken without repairing. </p>
<p>Fifteen blocks walking. Darkness broken here and there by the remaining light bulbs. The streets getting narrower and narrower, the sickly glow of the night sky giving everything a slightly unreal tint. Jaebeom walked these streets hunched over, his fingers gripping the taser in his pocket, never looking up. </p>
<p>It always felt incredibly silent, this part. The constant rumoring of the city never stopped reaching his ears, of course, but it was silent enough that each yell or TV noise or gunshot sounded loud enough to deafen.</p>
<p>The front door of his complex, one among thousands, the blue glow of the iris reader half hidden under the metal bars that kept it from getting stolen monthly. No pleasant voice welcomed him home, no fancy security system requested three more steps of authentication–buildings that incorporated complex security of that kind tended to be above his pay. Instead, the door unlocked with an audible <em>clang, </em>and Jaebeom hurried inside. </p>
<p>Every time he closed the door behind him he sighed in relief. </p>
<p>The last step. Several hundred of them, in fact. The complex did, actually, boast of an elevator, but enough people got stuck in it daily that Jaebeom chose the stairs every time. The ten floors were worth it, to him. </p>
<p>And then he was home. It was 1:21 AM and he was home. </p>
<p>Home was a concrete square among hundreds; the housing level that wasn’t <em>homeless, </em>and it wasn't a coffin hotel<em>, </em>but it was definitely right above those. All his earthly possessions were stuffed in it, and he had an actual window, and a futon for sleeping, and a nutrient processor, and a shower, and he paid more than half his salary for it each month, and he survived <em>okay. </em>Yes, he lived on reconstituted synth meals, and walked his terrible neighborhood every day because he couldn’t afford a bike, and he dressed in the same old clothes he’d worn for years, but he had a place to stay, and a job that paid even if it was under a shitty boss preparing shitty food for shitty tourists, and he was aware that it was a privilege that could be taken from him any day.</p>
<p>He managed to reach the fan and turn it on before dropping himself on the futon, sweaty as he was. The summer had been sweltering, the days unbearable with heat that rained downward with a pressure that felt tangible, the nights not giving anyone a break with the oppressive, thick atmosphere. Jaebeom didn’t think he felt the sweat anymore, after hours and days of weeks of constant heat. It wasn’t any better with the fan, the noisy blades barely offering a respite from the accumulated temperature in the tiny living space. </p>
<p>The white noise of a city that never slept filtered through the thin walls, thick with sirens and the relentless traffic. Jaebeom fell asleep seconds after without meaning to. </p>
<p>In a corner, half-hidden, almost as in shame, rested an old electric keyboard, looking banged up and patched enough to have been rescued from the trash. A couple of packs of synth coffee were placed on top of it, as if it was just another piece of furniture. Jaebeom tried to not think about it anymore. </p>
<hr/>
<p>Jinyoung always felt physically <em>heavy </em>after finishing a concert. The crash of adrenaline was real even if he didn’t perform in front of a live audience at all, even if he knew everything he did would be recorded and edited and perfected before being presented to anyone willing to pay for it. The make-up felt thick on his skin, his eyes struggling to stay open under the heavy lighting. </p>
<p>What time was it? Midnight? The middle of the day? He couldn’t remember how long he’d spent on the recording stage–hell, he could barely remember what <em>day</em> it was.</p>
<p>It was always colder than it was needed in there, the heavily refrigerated air harsh and foreign to the touch, unchanging and manufactured. A year could pass, and it would make no difference under the lights. </p>
<p>Jinyoung was ready to let himself collapse on the spot, but instead he took a deep breath and accepted the cup of coffee being offered to him without questions. A couple of people were helping him undress, and guiding him toward his vehicle, and then he found himself leaning his head against the window and blearily gazing outside the window. </p>
<p>The car sped along a familiar route; the trip home never took more than half an hour through the priority avenues. Jinyoung knew it could’ve been even faster, but precautions had to be taken to avoid being followed. Drones, disguised bikes, private investigators: fans could be relentless when they wanted to. </p>
<p>Jinyoung let himself look at the sky and the milky orange expanse seemed to look right back. </p>
<p>It was night, at least he knew that now.</p>
<p>He felt at least two different parts of his body screaming for attention, but he still had half of the tour to go, so they would have to wait for some time. It would be the same process tomorrow, he couldn’t help but think as he was helped to exit the car. No security check was needed to enter his building; it was, after all, under his name.</p>
<p>The same location, a slightly different outfit for the different country his concert would be played for, maybe a set change or two if he was asked to. The songs blending into one long, anguished scream, songs that had been created and perfected with him in mind. Performing for three hours in front of the recording system, checking the results, performing again. And again. And going home. </p>
<p>And again.</p>
<p>He couldn’t remember the last time he had come up with a song himself. He had done it, in the beginning, some old, half-forgotten memory.</p>
<p>The house welcomed him as he entered, all lights dimming themselves in response to his eye commands and the temperature regulating itself accordingly. He tried to think about the last time he’d eaten and for a second he considered asking for food, but somehow he found himself lying on one of the memory foam couches instead. </p>
<p>His bed was distant enough to be a badly remembered dream, at this point. He fell asleep without meaning to, abruptly, all at once.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Modern alarm clock ads promised state-of-the-art restfulness by being placed directly on the cerebral cortex and gently nudging the user awake by stimulating their hypothalamus. It was the latest rage, promoted by every celebrity on the planet, and Jaebeom found them terrifying. </p>
<p>He still woke up every morning with the shrill noise of an analog clock, his heart beating hard enough in his chest that he was fully awake with no worries of accidentally oversleeping. He’d forgotten the crappy blinds up, as usual, and the sun was seeping in ruthlessly even though it was barely morning. Jaebeom felt sweaty, and exhausted, and <em>hungry. </em></p>
<p>Right, he hadn’t eaten last night.</p>
<p>Or showered. </p>
<p>Or taken off his work clothes, by any means. </p>
<p>Automatically, he blinked and called the news toward his eyesight, skipping all the fresh natural disasters and political updates in favor of more personal content. He had two unread texts, warned the Interface, and he motioned to read them as he forced himself to roll out of bed. </p>
<p>Yes, he had an eye Interface. Didn’t almost everyone, at this point? It might’ve sounded invading and scary when it was first introduced, but the truth was that once you started controlling your content right on your field of vision, hands free, phones and personal computers suddenly became a thing of the past. It was almost impossible to get a job without access to the Interface, and he knew it better than anyone. The days where rent and food could be prioritized over an Interface subscription were in the past. </p>
<p>Jaebeom mechanically grabbed one of the synth coffee packs and dropped it into a cup and in the processor while reading the first text. </p>
<p>
  <em>shift from 9 to 22hs today. remember theres a line of people waiting for your spot if you dont fancy coming.</em>
</p>
<p>“Just perfect,” murmured Jaebeom to himself. He would’ve been angrier, but it was too early for that still.</p>
<p>The processor groaned itself awake with a loud, clacking noise. The air in the room felt humid, stale, almost as if it could be touched. </p>
<p>
  <em>you in for midnight?</em>
</p>
<p>The second text got Jaebeom’s attention slightly more. It was from Yugyeom, which sounded promising, and it actually fit with his working hours, which was even more promising. </p>
<p>A loud <em>ding </em>came from the processor, and Jaebeom reached for his cup of coffee as he motioned to reply affirmatively to Yugyeom. The coffee was terrible, like all synth food was, but it was boiling hot, and it had enough caffeine in it to calm down the headache already budding in the base of his skull. </p>
<p>He mentally checked his body, looking for any badly healed injured and glad to find none. His heart was already beating slightly faster, a steady drumming under his skin. </p>
<p>He reached for a breakfast pack and mindlessly put it in the synth as he scrolled through his feed a bit more. </p>
<p>He was still scrolling when he opened the water faucet he called a shower; and, as he stuck his already sweaty hair under the lukewarm stream, he wondered who he’d be up against. </p>
<hr/>
<p>Jinyoung didn’t think he would ever be used to being woken up by a literal electric jolt to his brain. It was not a pretty sensation, and he longed for the day when his advertising contract would be over so he could get the ugly thing removed without legal consequences. </p>
<p>Alas, he was awake. He felt gross, still in his day clothes, unshowered, his body screaming in alarm after hours in an awkward sleeping position. </p>
<p>He checked the time in his Interface, did a quick overview of the work emails piling up in his feed, and received the news that he was due to the recording stage at 6 am sharp with only a small sigh. </p>
<p><em>Pull yourself together, Jinyoung</em>. </p>
<p>He issued a couple of orders with the correct eye movements, leaving his coffee and breakfast ready by the time he left the bathroom. He longed for a real bath–hell, he longed to skip the shower entirely, but the sensible decision was to actually clean himself efficiently, and so he did. </p>
<p>The sun beat mercilessly down the massive floor to ceiling windows of the living room, yet no heat managed to penetrate. Jinyoung tried and failed to ignore the hazy brightness when he walked into the room, just like he tried and failed to ignore the constant pain in his right knee every time he moved. Maybe he’d actually have to talk to someone about it, as counterproductive for the tour as it would be. Maybe.</p>
<p>He scrolled his feed a bit more while downing maybe a quarter of his breakfast. The coffee could’ve tasted like ashes in his mouth and he wouldn’t have noticed, he mused to himself. The news was drab, the updates were overwhelming and his headache was growing like fog even through the kick of the caffeine. </p>
<p>Jinyoung absorbed the information and skipped the entertainment section completely. He’d set his Interface to mute all mentions of himself, but some extra precaution couldn’t hurt.</p>
<p>“You’re late already, come on,” came the shrill, tinny voice of his manager in his in-ear. For years Jinyoung had worn an external in-ear at all times, always ready to be talked to, until a couple of years ago he’d gotten an implant. Jinyoung wasn’t <em>used</em> to it<em>, </em>but it was his manager’s idea, and he couldn’t have refused. </p>
<p>The hulking figure of Senior became visible through the smoked glass door, as if on cue. Jinyoung sighed as he turned around, his mind almost made to tell him about his knee pain. Senior was an asshole, yes, but he’d managed him for the past ten years; he’d understand that an injury could result in monetary losses if left unattended, right?</p>
<p>“Do I need to fucking drag you to the car? React faster, princess, come on.”</p>
<p>Right. Never mind. </p>
<p>As stealthily as he could, Jinyoung grabbed an analgesic patch from the nearest cupboard. He would put it on in the privacy of the car, hope it was strong enough to drown the pain, and get through the recording. Just like he always did. </p>
<p>The car moved soundlessly through the almost empty lane, the unpaid roads beneath it crawling with vehicles looking almost like toys at the distance. Jinyoung darkened the window reflexively, and the short relief of the analgesic was already wearing off by the time he saw the silhouette of the recording stage in the horizon. He mentally kicked himself for not bringing extras, willing his brain to ignore the ache and go through the setlist. </p>
<p>Maybe if he did well enough the first time he wouldn’t need to re-record today. Maybe. </p>
<hr/>
<p>The under was always bustling with noise, smells, and people–today wasn’t different. Officially dubbed the Underground Market by some guy in a suit, it was the place where Jaebeom found himself most comfortable, ironically enough. </p>
<p>It took him almost twenty minutes to go from the entrance–stuck dark and uninviting between a metro opening and a run down tattoo shop–to the heart of the place, where it was boiling with activity. The deeper he went the louder the atmosphere was, a hundred songs and a thousand people mixing together in one familiar drone. </p>
<p>Down at the under cohabited illegal betting places, body art shops, synth food stalls, and a myriad of other commerces. Jaebeom hadn’t visited many places himself, but he knew Mark got most of the spare parts he used for his net rig in a store hidden somewhere in the north alley, and he’d gotten all his piercings done at a studio he walked past every time he went down, and even his Interface had been installed at a a familiar shop with a faded sign that slept between a fried synth chicken shop and a stripclub. </p>
<p>And deeper, deeper even, in the heart of the under, was the ring. It looked like nothing from a distance, almost invisible with its lack of bright neon, just a rusty entrance to what seemed like another abandoned stall. It was deep enough in the darkness that the smell of food faded a little, and the noise of the people coming and going was replaced by something quieter. </p>
<p>Jaebeom entered without knocking, giving a look to the bouncer that was enough to let him through without any questions. The place was dark, smelling of dust and blood and rust, and the noise of an eager crowd became louder with each step. </p>
<p>“You came! I was this close to cancelling your appearance, bitch,” greeted Yugyeom, with no malice in his tone. </p>
<p>Jaebeom let himself smile. It was always nice to see the kid, a spot of brightness in the dark of the backroom. </p>
<p>“Have I ever cancelled on you, brat?” he replied, shedding his jacket as he spoke. </p>
<p>“Well, you cancelled last week because you had a conflicting schedule for your job, and that Saturday when you wanted to stay in and sleep, and-”</p>
<p>“Okay, wrong answer from me, okay,” laughed Jaebeom. The adrenaline was starting to flow through his veins more freely, thick and intoxicating. </p>
<p>“Do you have the schedule?” he continued, trying to peer through the door on the opposite side of the room and failing.</p>
<p>“The schedule is in your inbox. Has been there for hours now, dude,” replied Yugyeom, giggling. The kid could be so annoying when he wanted to, God bless.</p>
<p>“Hey, some respect here! I’m about to earn you some money, kid,” he mumbled distractedly, glancing through the list in his Interface. </p>
<p><em>The Death Bringer. </em>That one was new. Why did these people always use such corny names?</p>
<p>“You got five minutes before your turn,” continued Yugyeom, already checking his own Interface for updates. Jaebeom thought that he was trying too hard to be cheerful, and it showed. </p>
<p>“Yugyeom, who is this Death Bringer?” asked Jaebeom, not worried but wondering.</p>
<p>Yugyeom sighed, the cheerful mask dropping like a wet cloth. </p>
<p>“He’s… augmented. Arm and vision and everything.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “The hell? Are you trying to get me killed?” </p>
<p>“He’s a rookie, so he got in because the uppers want something fresh, and fights have been getting boring lately, and-”</p>
<p>“Yugyeom, you know my eye doesn't count as a real augment. This shit isn't gonna help me at all.”</p>
<p>“I know, I know! You've never qualified as fighting enhanced, that's why I sent you the schedule earlier, I wanted to give you a chance to see this and back down!” the kid almost squeaked, looking clearly guilty. </p>
<p>“God damn it.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom could feel the anger rising to his throat, sudden and ugly. He’d had a tiring day, a long day, he’d been yelled at by clients and coworkers all day, and now he had to fight a fucking augmented, because the masses were fucking entertained, because it would be fun to see a defenseless guy get beaten up by some metal armed asshole, because of course it fucking was, and the bile was in his throat and his vision wasn’t as clear as before and all he knew was that he was <em>angry.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Good.</em>
</p>
<p>He took a deep breath, as centering as possible given the circumstances, and looked Yugyeom in the eyes. </p>
<p>“Get me in that fucking arena.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Jinyoung collapsed somewhere around the third re-recording, his knee going from loud warnings to directly giving up under him and dropping him on the floor. He laid there for maybe five seconds, the only thought in his mind being <em>I have to get up I have to get up every moment I’m here is money thrown to the trash oh God what will Senior say I have to get up.</em></p>
<p>He hadn’t been doing well at all, stumbling through the words of some songs and going through the choreography only thanks to his muscle memory. The set was so <em>cold, </em>and he could feel vomit rising through his throat every time he moved his right leg, and then he was on the floor. </p>
<p>“Mr. Jinyoung? I need you to get up now.”</p>
<p>
  <em>My knee is on fire. It’s on fucking fire.</em>
</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m getting up now, I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>He struggled to get up by his own means, gritted his teeth when he put just a slight pressure on the limb, and somehow got himself upright. He could feel cold sweat covering his face, running down his spine. Oh, God, he’d have to get his makeup redone. </p>
<p>
  <em>Don’t you dare throw up don’t you fucking dare</em>
</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry, this is embarrassing,” he tried to laugh, the sound shrill and deranged to his ears. “Just a little fall, I’ll be fine, let’s keep going.”</p>
<p>And just like that, the music started over, he looked straight to the camera, and smiled. </p>
<p>The show went on. </p>
<p>And on, and on, through another re-recording, and another, and every time he finished his setlist the grim awareness that it was even worse than the previous one settled in the back of his throat. This concert was to be performed tomorrow, he had dozens of people waiting to take his footage and turn it into usable material, he <em>had to make it work. </em></p>
<p>The fire in his knee was almost numb now, somehow, as if his brain had taken mercy on him and had turned the pain receptors down. </p>
<p>The 3 AM call surprised everyone, including himself. Had he really been doing this all day? He dared a glance at his Interface, the numbers feeling foreign and strange after hours and hours of endlessly going through the songs again and again. Three AM.</p>
<p>And then the pain was back in full force, blindsiding him, making him drop to the floor again. </p>
<p>
  <em>God fucking damnit.</em>
</p>
<p>Jinyoung felt prickly tears threatening to spill, and he almost screamed in frustration. If only he’d brought more analgesic patches, if only he’d been able to get it right the first time so he wouldn’t have spent all day being told to go over it again and again and again. </p>
<p>It felt unfair, but he tamped down that thought as soon as it rose up. Thinking like that was dangerous. Ungrateful. He bit through his tongue more forcefully than he intended to, ready to keep going all night if necessary.</p>
<p>“All right, I think we better cut this here for tonight.” The disembodied voice came from the control cabin, and it flooded Jinyoung’s body with relief that soured into disappointment almost immediately. At this point, he was probably causing them to spend more money to keep going than what he could make with the concert. They would have to patch the performances together, correct them, edit him into the person he was supposed to be. </p>
<p>Had he ever been that person? Hadn’t he always gone home with this bitterness in his throat, the hammering of <em>not good enough </em>and <em>waste of resources </em>in his throat? </p>
<p>For a second, Jinyoung was ready to close his eyes to the world and let himself sleep in that prone position on the concrete floor. He was <em>so fucking tired. </em></p>
<p>And then somehow he found himself backstage, and someone was wiping his make-up clean, and there was the taste of coffee in his mouth, and he was talking, probably apologizing again, but he wasn’t sure, and then he found himself on his bed. </p>
<p>On his bed?</p>
<p>He didn’t know how he’d gotten there, but he was there. The brightness of the Interface bore into his field of view, the darkness of his room stark in contrast. </p>
<p>The pain in his knee was constant, radiating from a single point of agony all the way to his fingertips, making his chest tight with dread. He wouldn’t make it through another day like this. Everyone would see, everyone would realize that he wasn’t holding up, the contract would drop so fast he wouldn’t have time to react. </p>
<p>A sudden lance of fear stabbed his chest at that thought. Maybe they’d <em>already </em>found out.</p>
<p>Lying on his unmade bed, feeling helpless against its massiveness, an almost inaudible gasp of pain with every breath, Jinyoung did what he’d sworn himself not to do. He directed his Interface to the entertainment section, gave his name, and, with his heart suddenly in the back of his throat and a fist of worry in his stomach, he hit Search. </p>
<p>It was there, of course it was. No fucking place was sacred, no walls were thick enough to avoid secrets getting out, no information was too valuable to not be sold.</p>
<p>It was a short video, clearly taken from an eye augmentation. Jinyoung didn’t recognize the figure on the floor at first, until with a start he saw his own face, pale under the gaudy stage make-up, the fear unmistakable on his expression. </p>
<p>He looked so… small.</p>
<p>His heartbeat was so loud in his ears that he himself didn’t realize what he was doing, not until he found himself at his own doorstep. There were no coherent thoughts, no plan, no future. There was only the image of his body, so weak and small and unimportant, being broadcasted for everyone to see. It was still in his Interface, but he couldn’t bring himself to send it away. </p>
<p>He only took a moment to think about what he was doing when he saw himself in the elevator mirrors. He looked hunted, a wild expression in his eyes, the terror pushing him forward. He knew he would be stopped as soon as he reached the lobby, so he took the first rational step and went to the back door. Yes, there were cameras everywhere, and yes, he would be stopped there too, but he’d figure out something. </p>
<p>He had to fucking <em>escape. </em></p>
<p>The performer Jinyoung had known to be was shattered, the entire untouchable, magical persona having taken a hammer to the chest. In his sleep neglected state, delirious from pain, all Jinyoung knew was that he had to get <em>away</em> from it. From himself. </p>
<p>For the umpteenth time, he wished he wasn’t himself. He wished he was literally anybody else, that he had someone else’s life, that he didn’t have to carry the weight of being who he was. But this time, for the first time, he let his thoughts run wild. He was tired, and it was unfair that he had to deal with everything alone, and his knee was fucking screaming in pain. </p>
<p>His housing complex towered right above a busy commercial street, so he was greeted by thousands of people as soon as he stepped out of the door. It was probably around 4 AM by that time, but nobody would’ve been able to tell by the view. The endless billboards and store fronts cast a detached, cold glow into the air, and the noise was endless. </p>
<p>Jinyoung gasped as soon as he felt the sticky, hot air hit his skin. He was dressed for a well refreshed room, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had actually gone outside. From here the sky looked closer, too, somehow. He took his jacket off, wondering how he looked to the world still in his performance clothes. </p>
<p>He didn’t need to worry, though, of course. The sight of the street was one of hundreds of styles, clothes, colors, augments. He would fit right in. </p>
<p>Jinyoung started walking, everything blurring into a single plume of saturation in his view. He didn’t direct his feet to move forward and yet they did, the streets spilling forward into more and more and more. </p>
<p>He didn’t have a plan. Hell, he probably didn’t have a fucking <em>job </em>anymore. Someone yelled something he didn’t understand directly into his face, and he ignored them. </p>
<p>He’d only walked far enough that he could’ve still seen his building if he had turned around when his in-ear rang loud, persistently, jolting him into attention. </p>
<p>Senior, probably.</p>
<p>Jinyoung wished he could take the thing off, remove it from his body as easily as someone discarded a pair of gloves, wished it didn’t take a specialized body mod surgeon and anaesthesia to disconnect him from that world. He let it ring, fading into the background noise just like the pain in his knee had, the minuscule part of his brain that was still functioning normally completely <em>freaking out </em>at the idea of ignoring a call from Senior.</p>
<p>They’d probably already been alerted that he’d left the building, and they were probably already coordinating a search party, and the police had probably been called, and-</p>
<p>Or maybe not, he thought with a bitter laugh. Maybe they were already ready to drop him, already searching for the next talent. Maybe Senior was calling him to let him know that he was quitting and selling all his possessions to pay for the debt he was surely sunk in now. </p>
<p>He kept walking. The swirl of light and sound didn’t dwindle down, feeling oppressive in the humid air. His feet kept moving, and his life was over, and the city enveloped him in a cold embrace, and he was so alone, and he kept walking. </p>
<hr/>
<p>“Jesus fucking Christ, Jaebeom.”</p>
<p>Yugyeom’s voice sounded muffled, wobbly, as if coming from far away. With a start, Jaebeom realized that his ears were ringing. </p>
<p>Also, he tasted blood in his mouth.</p>
<p>Also, his body was screaming from ten different places at once. </p>
<p>Ah, right. </p>
<p>Was he sitting on the floor of the backroom? <em>The hell</em>. </p>
<p>“You stubborn, dumb idiot.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom tried to reply, to tell the kid to stop abusing him like that, but the words wouldn’t come out. He reached for his Interface out of habit, but all he got was a weak error message. </p>
<p>The Interface was never offline. What the fuck was going on?</p>
<p>“You will get yourself killed, and you will make my income drop, and you will make me so sad, you asshole.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom tried to hit in the general direction of the voice, felt a flare of pain in his arm, dropped it. “Did I just get hit by a car?”</p>
<p>“No, goddamnit, you got hit by an augmented. Will you ever learn to give up <em>before </em>passing out from blood loss?”</p>
<p>Jaebeom groaned, the fight coming back to his memory all at once. The familiar anger clouding his senses, sparring him on. The massive dude on the other side of the ring, a gross jumble of metal and spikes where his right arm should’ve been. The dust in the air, the cheers of the audience above him on their seats. </p>
<p>The need to destroy him. It didn’t matter who he was, all that mattered was that his body was begging him to punch, to bite, to kick, to the point where he saw red. </p>
<p>He’d fought as he always did, hitting as hard as he could, moving as fast as he could. His skills were usually good enough to win fights; he was flexible, and fast, and experienced, but he usually didn’t fight opponents that were <em>half fucking machines. </em></p>
<p>A single hit to his head and he was on the ground, everything spinning and refusing to come into focus. He spat blood toward the feet of the monster, willing his limbs to move. He rolled out of the way of a massive spike stabbing the spot his body had occupied a second ago. </p>
<p>Living in the city meant the thought of dying was always in the back of his mind. There was always someone desperate enough to rob for food, a missed bullet, a car out of control, the dozens of brand new illnesses springing up every week. But for the first time that day, the perspective of death felt very much real in Jaebeom’s eyes. </p>
<p>
  <em>I might fucking die tonight. </em>
</p>
<p>Fuck that. He wouldn’t be killed by a fucking cheating asshole, not pinned down in the middle of a dusty ring, he fucking refused to. </p>
<p>Somehow, he’d found himself back on his feet, his eyesight still struggling to focus. </p>
<p>In hindsight, that next blow had probably been the one that had fucked with his Interface, hadn’t it.</p>
<p>“Whoa, easy there.” Yugyeom’s voice was coming from further and further down the tunnel that was his vision. </p>
<p>Jaebeom felt the floor suddenly rise up to meet him, and, just like that, he was gone again.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The first thing Jinyoung could think was <em>why am I on the floor.</em></p>
<p>He’d been walking, yes, thinking of his own misery, planning ten different ways to sell the clothes on his back for food, rewatching the viral video of his fall again and again to torture himself. </p>
<p>When had the lights dimmed? Had it been all at once, had he made the wrong turn and suddenly found himself in a dark alley? </p>
<p>Had he been so absorbed by himself that he had not noticed the shops dwindling, the crowds thinning, the billboards the only thing constant, illuminating an older, dirtier, more forgotten road?</p>
<p>He brought up his Interface, and–</p>
<p>
  <em>Nothing.</em>
</p>
<p>Well, shit.</p>
<p>He couldn’t help it, he couldn’t help but feel hot tears of anger when he heard their voices all over again in his memory, the “hey, nice shoes you got there,” and the “shut the fuck up and hand everything over before i gut you,” and the fist solid against his temple, and the lights going out. </p>
<p>For a long, endless second, despair threatened to wash him over. Of course he’d get robbed the first two hours he stepped outside. Of course the spoiled sheltered rich boy would get attacked the moment he was by himself. Of course–</p>
<p>With supreme effort, thick enough that it felt like a physical ache, he made himself stop. </p>
<p>He needed help, he realized as he took more account of his body. It hadn’t been just a punch, his ribs hurt every time he breathed, his undershirt was crusted with blood from God knows what injury, and his knee was still in agony. </p>
<p>And, of course, Jinyoung had no money. No money, no map, no way to contact anybody now that his Interface was dead. </p>
<p>He let himself look up, gaze to the sky in a way he hadn’t in a long time. The glow felt almost comforting, in its muggy, dense, humid way. </p>
<p>He couldn't track the time he spent staring at the glossy expanse, wondering what it had looked like back when it wasn't endlessly blanketed with a thick layer of pollution. </p>
<p>For some reason, the thought of being able to see the stars in front of his eyes, no pictures, no VR augmented reality, just the stars above him, made him shiver with longing. </p>
<p><em>All right,</em> he thought, forcing himself to get up from the gross street. <em>Time to find help.</em></p>
<hr/>
<p>The next time Jaebeom opened his eyes, Jackson’s hands were uncomfortably close to his face, one of his tools whirring dangerously.</p>
<p>“Fuck!”</p>
<p>“Oh, hey, you’re finally awake.” Jackson smiled, relief plain on his face. “Thought maybe I’d accidentally put you in a coma, there.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom fought to arrange his thoughts in a coherent sentence, groaning. “Please tell me you didn’t fuck with my insides again.”</p>
<p>“I asked him to!” said Yugyeom, ready to take the fall as usual, the sweet kid. “Your Interface was dead, you said so yourself.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom closed his eyes again, grudgingly relieved when the familiar glow of the screens appeared when prompted.</p>
<p>“I had to reinstall the whole thing from scratch,” continued Jackson, his tone going from relieved to chiding once he knew for sure Jaebeom was fine. “You need to stop getting your ass beaten like that, Jaebeom.”</p>
<p>“Ass beaten? I held my ground there, ask anyone.”</p>
<p>“I had to drag you out of the arena unconscious, dude.”</p>
<p>“Ask anyone except Yugyeom.”</p>
<p>Jackson sighed. “All I’m saying is, I’m glad you found an outlet for your anger that lets you punch people who actually agree to take the punches, but, come on.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom didn’t have time for this. “Am I fixed? Did I wire the payment? I’m leaving.”</p>
<p>Yugyeom was looking at him with a look that could almost be translated as pity. </p>
<p>“Shut the fuck up, Yugyeom.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom’s brain lit up in alarm when he sat up from the table where he’d been lying down, nausea and pain rushing to make him tilt forward.</p>
<p>Jackson’s hand was immediately on his shoulder, stabilizing him. </p>
<p>“I don’t think you should leave yet,” he said, worrying at his lower lip. “I did have to do quite a number to your brain there, especially to bypass the latest security barrier patch.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom looked at the time, and then straightened up all at once. </p>
<p>“Shit, I’m late for work.”</p>
<p>Two pairs of eyes stared at him.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“You’re unbelievable,” finally said Yugyeom. “You’re <em>injured</em>, goddamnit, I just spent an hour patching up your shitty body.” </p>
<p>Jaebeom wanted to listen to them, he wanted to lie down and sleep, hell, he wanted to fucking <em>thank them.</em></p>
<p>Why was he angry again? Why now?</p>
<p>He gritted his teeth to stop the ugly words threatening to spill from his mouth, balled his fists, and took a deep breath. </p>
<p>“I really need to fucking work, okay?”</p>
<p>He wobbled on his feet as soon as he stood up, narrowly avoiding the lamp casting a cold, white shade on the room. It was crammed full of crates, instruments, repairing spares, and old junk, but somehow Jackson always knew exactly where to find the piece necessary to repair someone’s old knee augmentation, or the key to update pricey software without paying a fortune for it. </p>
<p>He was <em>good, </em>and everyone knew it. Something about taking his valuable time for something as pointless as his Interface bothered Jaebeom, made him feel guilty. He avoided their eyes as he walked toward the door. </p>
<p>“Jaebeom, wait!” Yugyeom was next to him in a second. “Your jacket, I brought it from the back room.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom accepted it with his eyes still downcast, and managed to mumble an apology loud enough to be heard by Jackson as well. </p>
<p>“Any time, dude,” he answered, wiping some gross gunk from his work gloves. “Remember to take it easy for a couple of hours, okay? The system is still recalibrating up there.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom nodded almost imperceptibly. “Yeah.”</p>
<p>Jackson’s shop was fairly refrigerated, thanks to his own ingenuity with machines, and the hot, stale air of the under hit Jaebeom like a slap to the face when he stepped out. He checked the time again. Almost 5:40. He had barely enough time to go home, shower and get to work in time for his day shift. God, he’d really spent all night passing out from injuries like an idiot. </p>
<p>He swayed on his feet when a sudden wave of a delicious smell hit him. Maybe he could get some food too. </p>
<p>He checked his Interface again, looking for his account balance. All right, maybe just a synth cube from the store a block from home. Jackson had been his friend for years, and had always refused to accept a single credit from him for his work, but it was still long before he got paid, and having lost the match, he didn’t have any extra income waiting for him. </p>
<p>Synth cubes tasted like processed ass. He sighed again. </p>
<p>His feet directed him seamlessly through the crowd, cutting through them and already thinking about the day of work ahead. He could probably afford to buy some energy doses as well. </p>
<hr/>
<p>Jinyoung felt like he’d been walking for hours, but the still nocturnal sky told him it had been more like fifteen minutes. He dragged himself slowly, trying his best not to think about the possibility of stepping on something lying discarded on the ground. If he looked up he could still see massive billboards lighting his way, adhered to residential buildings, covering old windows carelessly, even darkening houses completely. It took him a second to understand why they looked so strange: with his Interface offline, they couldn’t personalize to him anymore, and showed generic, drab looking advertisements for products that couldn’t be further away from his taste. </p>
<p>Jinyoung was completely, utterly lost. He knew it, deep down, the awareness of his situation nagged him in the back of his throat like a strangled sob, but he refused to let himself think about it. He pushed his body forward, looking for a storefront, any store, any friendly looking light with the door open to strangers with no shoes and no clothes and no money and no Interface and no career and no future and no–</p>
<p>He let himself whimper. Just a small cry, a desperate sound, the reaction of someone who has completely ran out of ideas. The towering skyscrapers looked down on him, uncaring. </p>
<p>And then, a neon sign. </p>
<p>At first he thought he was imagining it, and he tried to push down the suddenly growing hope he felt. It could be closed, it could be an old sign, it could be anything but what he needed. But God, he got closer and, even though the door was firmly guarded by iron bars, even though there was clearly an Interface reader at the entrance, he let himself dream of getting in. </p>
<p>But of course, he had no fucking Interface. He couldn’t justify entering the store if he had no Interface to pay with. </p>
<p>He stared at the door for maybe a whole minute, enough that the clerk inside could’ve been suspicious, but he found out he couldn’t make himself care. He fantasized of dropping himself to the floor right there, of giving up. A hysterical laugh bubbled up his throat. This was it, then. </p>
<p>“Excuse me.”</p>
<p>The voice was gruff yet polite, barely above a mumble. Jinyoung startled, moving out of the way before he could think about it.</p>
<p>“S-sorry,” he whispered, trying his best to not choke in a sob and failing. </p>
<p>The stranger was in the process of approaching his eye to the Interface reader, but he turned to look at him. His expression was mildly puzzled, like Jinyoung was too fascinating to not study him for a second at least. His hair was soft and long enough to cover half of his face, but the shine of his left eye still betrayed an implant of some kind, mildly unnerving in its unnaturalness as he looked at him. He was also, to the naked eye, <em>seriously </em>injured, more blackened eyes and painful looking cuts than unblemished skin.</p>
<p>“You okay?” the man said.</p>
<p>Jinyoung found himself snorting, gasping from the pain in his ribs and planning a quick escape all at once. “Are <em>you </em>okay?”</p>
<p>The stranger seemed to suddenly remember what he looked like, his unexpectedly kind expression morphing into something darker. “Should’ve seen the other guy,” he muttered in a tone that was probably trying to be joking. He motioned him to enter the store. “You going in, or what?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung should’ve brushed it off. He should’ve shrugged, invented a random excuse, he should’ve turned around and dragged himself to an alley to lie down. </p>
<p>Instead, for some reason, he found himself wanting to tell this stranger the truth. Maybe it was the way his unmatched eyes twinkled with unrestrained curiosity. Maybe it was the way he’d asked that first question, a kindness innegable in a gesture that he hadn’t received in a long, long time. </p>
<p>Maybe it was simply how tired he looked, and how the hoodie he was wearing looked massive on him, making Jinyoung think <em>I bet he gives good hugs.</em></p>
<p>Where the hell did that come from?</p>
<p>“I got jumped,” he found himself babbling, unable to stop the half-formed sentences tumbling from his lips. “They wrecked my Interface, and I’m so lost that I have no idea where’s home, and maybe I don’t even have a home anymore, and–”</p>
<p>His knee chose that moment to give up on him, and he felt himself lose balance, and he braced to crash on the floor again. This was becoming a worryingly common situation.</p>
<p>“Hey, careful,” the stranger automatically stepped towards him, his arms grabbing him right in time. If he winced in pain from his own unseen injuries, he hid it well. </p>
<p>They stood unmoving for a second, sure that if they moved any muscle they would collapse into a pile on the floor. Jinyoung giggled again, delirious by the whole situation. <em>He does give good hugs, </em>he thought, ridiculously enough.</p>
<p>“Do you have where to stay around here?” the guy blurted out from somewhere above his head.</p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>“I know a guy who can get your Interface fixed, but he’d kick my ass if I dropped you on his lap right now,” he continued, grunting in the effort to put Jinyoung back on his feet by himself. “I can arrange for you to meet him soon, though. But you look like you need a long rest, anyways.”</p>
<p>For a second, Jinyoung let fear freeze his judgement. He didn’t even know this dude’s <em>name</em>.</p>
<p>Then again, he wondered, could his life get any worse at this point? He moved a bit to let him know that he was okay, and stood back with as little of a wobble as possible. </p>
<p>“Jinyoung.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“That’s my name. I’m Jinyoung. And I’m telling you as a polite way of prompting you to tell me yours, before I decide if I want to let a friend of yours dig around my brain.”</p>
<p>The stranger laughed, a genuine, sudden sound. </p>
<p>His eyes disappeared into the cutest little crescent moons when he smiled, Jinyoung mused idly. The warm, brown one and the artificial icy blue one together.</p>
<p>“I’m Jaebeom. Sorry.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung nodded, trying to kick his brain into assessing the situation. “I don’t, by the way. I don’t have a place to stay.”</p>
<p>The guy–<em>Jaebeom–</em>tilted his head slightly in an unsaid question at that. </p>
<p>“It’s… complicated.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung dropped his gaze to the dirty floor and focused intensely on a discarded wrapper, discolored by time. Now was the moment when Jaebeom decided that he was too much trouble to get into, apologized politely, and left him on the curb. Right?</p>
<p>“Listen.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom’s face betrayed every single thought he had, somehow. He knit his eyebrows together, went through an idea, another one, worry, <em>anger, </em>and finally settled in resolve. “Wanna stay with me?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung couldn’t help but stare at Jaebeom in disbelief. </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“I mean, my place is like, really small, but–”</p>
<p>Jinyoung used to pride himself in taking rational decisions, choosing the best option for his life and planning for his future carefully. At least, he’d thought he was like this. At that moment, though, after hectic hours of throwing his entire life over the board, he grabbed the opportunity that was being offered to him and held to it for dear life. </p>
<p>“Uh, I’m sure it’s a great place,” he answered.</p>
<hr/>
<p>A synth cube, an energy dose. A basic med kit. On impulse, Jaebeom grabbed a sweet bar as well. The guy waiting outside seemed like he’d appreciate it. </p>
<p>Despite the hour, the small store was fully lit, and a constant drone of advertising played through the speakers. Behind the counter stood a rusty, decrepit server bot, which probably explained why nobody had found his little chat with Jinyoung outside suspicious enough to call the cops. Server bots tended to not give a shit about their surroundings.</p>
<p>
  <em>What the fuck am I doing?</em>
</p>
<p>He steadied himself against a shelf of batteries, his Interface still struggling to catch up with his brain. Jinyoung.</p>
<p>
  <em>Jinyoung.</em>
</p>
<p>Had he really opened the door to a complete stranger just because he looked pitiful? No, not even pitiful. Despite being beaten up, half undressed and exhausted, the guy looked… honest. Like he <em>wouldn’t </em>take advantage of some weirdo offering him a place to stay. </p>
<p>Like he wouldn’t ask many questions because he didn’t want to answer any of his own. </p>
<p>Also, the idea of a group of assholes taking advantage of his clearly vulnerable state made his throat constrict with rage. </p>
<p>A stab of pain sizzled through his spine. Maybe it would be good to get some extra analgesic patches, as well. After all, Jackson had fixed his Interface, but every kick and punch from that ugly metal arm he’d taken was still lodged firmly under his skin. </p>
<p>Jaebeom winced when he saw the negative numbers screaming red in his face after paying. God, he was going to be <em>late for work. </em></p>
<p>He grabbed his purchases hastily and headed toward the door. Hazily he wondered what Jinyoung would think of the sweet bar he’d bought. Did he like sweet bars? God, he knew <em>nothing </em>about the guy. </p>
<p>“Still here?” he asked from the door, concerned when he saw him jump a little. </p>
<p>“Y-yeah,” Jinyoung answered. “Don’t really have anywhere else to be right now, honestly.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom couldn’t help but snort again. Jinyoung smiled just a tiny bit, looking almost proud of himself.</p>
<p>“I, uh-” Jaebeom suddenly felt a wave of uncertainty crash over him, his hand already holding the candy inside the bag. “Doyoulikesweetbars?” </p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>Jaebeom stuck his hand extended in front of him, the wrapper bright under the shaky neon light. Jinyoung’s mouth dropped open, as he looked up and down again and up again from Jaebeom’s bashful face to the bar, <em>oh God, he hadn’t eaten in ages, </em>and Jaebeom was awkwardly standing there, looking like he was regretting every decision he’d ever made, and on impulse Jinyoung took the bar. </p>
<p>Jaebeom’s fingers were warm, dry, a fluttering second of contact. And he dropped his hand, and stared at Jinyoung as he anxiously teared the package open, and bit into the sweet bar, and the strong, artificial flavor was better than any real food Jinyoung had ever tasted, and his eyes found Jaebeom’s as if by chance.</p>
<p>“Fhank yhou.” Swallow. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom’s eyes seemed to be glued in one direction, looking at Jinyoung eat like it was some strange work of art, and Jinyoung had the surprise of seeing him blush again when he caught his gaze. </p>
<p>This guy was <em>cute. </em>What the hell. </p>
<p>He seemed to break out of a trance when a loud <em>bang </em>came from the corner. “Let’s go, it’s not really safe around here.”</p>
<p>He turned around and walked in the direction of the nearest alley, Jinyoung following him closely. Jinyoung wanted to talk, to know more about him, to thank him again and again for the place and the sweet bar and <em>everything, </em>but he was too flustered by the situation to say anything. </p>
<p>He took advantage of his position right behind Jaebeom to look at him better. He needed to make sure that he looked trust-worthy, of course. The leather jacket in summer weather was an odd choice, sure, but that didn’t mean anything. Neither did the multiple ear piercings he’d seen glinting under the artificial lights, even visible through the strands of his hair now. Neither did the old, worn boots he was hurriedly stomping on. Nothing. </p>
<p>If Jinyoung had seen someone like this man near him in the past, he’d probably have been slightly <em>intimidated, </em>but the sound of his laugh was still present in Jinyoung’s mind, and he’d bought him a sweet bar, and unless he was part of an elaborate plan to lure him into darkness and kill him for what was left of his clothes, Jinyoung told himself he needed to trust him. </p>
<p>For now, at least. At least until he had a night of sleep and decided what the fuck to do with his life. </p>
<p>Behind them, behind the rows and rows of hulking buildings, a brighter glow began to rise. The heat that had never truly left them during the night began to settle more heavily, oppressive. </p>
<p>Jinyoung swallowed the last of the sweet bar and made himself walk as fast as he could.</p>
<hr/>
<p>In the days to come, Jaebeom couldn’t recall the exact moment when he had made the decision. Maybe it was somewhere between the convenience store and his house, the sudden awareness of what he had done beginning to grip his heart with worry. Maybe it was when he saw Jinyoung drop himself on his futon with a sigh of relief, accepting the way Jaebeom offered to clean the cuts from his face and apply little healing patches to them, waving off Jinyoung's complaints and fighting to stay awake as he did. </p>
<p>Maybe it had simply been the moment when he’d first seen him at the door of the store, tears threatening to spill down his scrunched face, his entire body shivering clearly more from shock than cold in the muggy night air. </p>
<p>Whenever it happened, the decision was made, and Jaebeom didn’t go to work that day.</p>
<p>Maybe the constant sleep deprivation added on top of the recent injuries helped him to not think the plan very rationally; maybe it was meant to happen at some point and it just happened to be that day. What mattered was that he sent a quick text to his boss, silenced the Interface, and fell asleep in a matter of seconds.</p>
<p>He dreamt of augmenteds, for some reason. He was the one with both arms augmented in his dream, and he was on the ring again, kneeling over a figure lying on the sand unconscious. He could feel the blood covering his fists, sticky and warm, and he thought vaguely, in a half lucid state, how weird it was that he could feel it even though they were supposed to be metal. </p>
<p>He woke up startled not by his own dream, but by a panicked voice above him. It took him a second to orientate from his position being slightly different than usual, his room a stranger for a second before he could wake up fully. </p>
<p>“Jaebeom?”</p>
<p>He opened his eyes, reluctant to let the sunlight pour in. “Jinyoung, hey.” His voice sounded scruffy from lack of use. </p>
<p>Jinyoung, on the other hand, sounded terrified. “What time is it? The alarm didn’t go off, it must’ve also gone out of commission, I don’t know–”</p>
<p><em>Right, he doesn’t have his Interface, </em>supplied Jaebeom’s brain helpfully after a moment of confusion. “It’s...10:30?” he answered. Like an idiot, he also added “AM.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung looked like his brain was threatening to give up on him and he was trying his best not to let it. </p>
<p>“Did you really sleep on the floor?” he asked. And, a second later, “didn’t you have to go to work?”</p>
<p>Jaebeom sat up, trying to work his fingers through a swollen articulation. The sudden panic of having forgotten something extremely important shot like fire up his spine, and then he remembered and sighed. </p>
<p>“I kind of told my boss I just wouldn’t go today, I think? Don’t worry about it,” he said after a second, taking in Jinyoung’s state. “Hey, you wanna use my shower? It’s cold only, but the sun kind of takes care of the temperature these days.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung seemed to only then take in his own appearance, and he looked <em>appalled. </em>His expression was conflicted, but Jaebeom figured that he’d pried into the guy’s life enough already. </p>
<p>Instead, he stood up to go through the boxes he used as storage and closet and cabinets. “I’ll find some clothes for you, and we can go to Jackson’s afterwards.”</p>
<p>“Jackson’s?”</p>
<p>“The guy who can fix your Interface.”</p>
<p>At this, Jinyoung seemed to deflate a bit. “Oh… right.”</p>
<p>Now, maybe Jaebeom did need to pry a bit more. “You all right?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung seemed too embarrassed to look in his direction, and chose to inspect his fingernails instead. When he finally spoke, he sounded small and worried. </p>
<p>“You see, I… have some money? But there’s… a situation? I don’t know if I will have access to it even if I get an Interface. I mean,” he laughed joylessly, “I might be absolutely broke right now for all I know. All access blocked. It would make sense, honestly.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom approached the futon, a t-shirt with some post punk band logo fading on the chest. He raised an eyebrow questioningly, and Jinyoung shrugged. He probably didn’t share his music taste, but it would be better than the tatters he was still wearing. </p>
<p>“We’ll see when the time comes, okay?” Jaebeom sounded so reassuring that Jinyoung felt himself dangerously close to crying out of nowhere again. “Getting it back is a priority, I assume.” He threw the shirt in Jinyoung’s direction and pointed toward the door that had to be the bathroom. “Listen, is plain coffee ok?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung tried to get up, grunting when his body lit up in pained alarm. “Not my favorite, but it does the job,” he answered, catching himself right before adding that he’d never tried the synth coffee packs he could see behind Jaebeom. Right, of course he could only afford synth. Don’t be an ass, Jinyoung. </p>
<p>“What?” he heard Jaebeom say in a puzzled tone. </p>
<p>Jinyoung was too busy worrying over an issue he hadn't considered before to answer. Did Jaebeom recognize him? He didn't seem the type to keep up with the pop scene, honestly.</p>
<p>“Nothing, nothing,” he waved it off, moving painstakingly slowly to minimize the ache he felt radiating from his body. His knee was still screaming for attention, the traitorous bitch, joined by the constant pain he felt in his ribs every time he breathed, the bruises pulsing steadily in ten different places, and he had a massive headache. He left Jaebeom looking at him with his head slightly cocked to the side, looking almost <em>adorable </em>in his confusion.</p>
<p>The shower was warmer than Jinyoung expected, and it fell blandly from an old rusted tube peeking from the wall. The water stung every cut and bruise he had, making him feel tender and achy all over. </p>
<p>The bathroom was tiny, as tiny as the rest of the place, and Jinyoung felt a wave of despair when he realized that the only usable items in it were a bar of soap and some kind of generic moisturizing cream. Jinyoung felt the weight of what he had done crash on top of him again, the sheer contrast to his massive bathroom and the dozens of expensive skincare treatments he did daily seeming so far away that it might've been a different life. </p>
<p>Jinyoung didn’t look at himself much while showering, worrying only to remove as much of the grime and sweat sticking to his skin as possible. His knee wasn’t getting any better, pulsing dully even then, but he pushed that thought further down. He had enough things to worry about. </p>
<p>A few minutes later he was drinking the first synth coffee of his life, hot enough to burn and bitter enough to make him gasp, wearing merch for a band he’d never listened to, standing in the middle of a living space small enough that it felt cramped with the two people in it, trying his best not to look at the man in front of him too much.</p>
<p>He let his gaze wander around. The cubicle was surprisingly tidy, as if every box and nondescript furniture element had its own place and Jaebeom made sure to keep it that way. His attention was caught for a moment on an old keyboard, probably a 747 model or older, half-hidden in a corner. Jinyoung hadn’t seen a 747 in <em>years</em>, he mused. </p>
<p>Did Jaebeom play? He didn’t seem the part, honestly, but after half a day of knowing him Jinyoung had come to accept that there were many things that he shouldn’t assume. </p>
<p>An ice-breaking question about the keyboard rested on his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to spit it out. God, when had this turned so awkward?</p>
<p>Jaebeom drank his own cup too fast, spluttered in alarm, went worryingly red with shame and desperately searched for a topic he could talk to Jinyoung about. </p>
<p>Of course, the task would’ve been easier if he knew <em>anything </em>about him, which he definitely didn’t. So he settled for what he had, letting his cup rest on the nutrient processor precariously. </p>
<p>“So, I contacted Jackson and he said he has an open spot now, actually.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung perked up at the words, daring to look him in the eye. “Oh, that’s great! Is it okay if I go? You can give me directions and I can go if that’s okay? Or maybe it’s better if you come with me, I don’t know?” He cringed internally at his own sudden babbling words, wondering why he couldn’t speak like a goddamn normal person in front of Jaebeom.</p>
<p>Jaebeom looked at him, halfway between tired and endeared. Jinyoung was <em>sweet </em>in his own way, worrying over the smallest details, clearly trying his best to navigate social interactions he seemed unfamiliar with, creasing his brow a little and pursing his lips in a move that was definitely adorable. Where had this kid even come from?</p>
<p>“We’ll go together, don’t worry,” he said, trying to convey some sense of security he didn’t know if he actually felt. Jinyoung looked like he needed it. “I got some breakfast packs, if you want. They’re just the plain ones, but they will fill you up.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung looked at him like he had promised him the universe itself. “I’d like that very much,” he said. “I’ll pay you everything somehow, okay?” he added after a beat, “like, the food, and the stay here, and everything, I swear I’ll find a way.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom, already halfway through the process of dropping a breakfast cube in his shitty processor, just hummed. “We’ll worry about that later,” he said. “We can’t really do anything about it right now, so don’t think too much about it.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung exhaled a tiny laugh. <em>If only it was that easy,</em> he almost replied. If Jaebeom knew his life, he’d probably say otherwise. </p>
<p>Then again, Jinyoung had no idea what Jaebeom would think of him if he <em>really </em>knew him. He didn’t say anything else, accepting the plastic bowl with some less than appetizing gruel in it without a word. </p>
<p>Jaebeom stood watching him, eating from his own bowl mechanically, his mind trying to decode the man occupying most of his living space. His soft looking hair flopped messily over his eyes, tiny droplets of water still occasionally cascading down his face, but he didn’t seem to notice, his own gaze lost somewhere far away as he ate. </p>
<p>“I got my Interface knocked out yesterday, actually,” said Jaebeom after a pause. “So, I feel your pain.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung’s eyes shot up immediately, curious, “Really? Don’t tell me you got robbed too, or I will feel really shitty about taking your food.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom couldn’t help but laugh. “Nah, got my ass kicked in a fight. A consensual one, though.”</p>
<p>If Jinyoung looked curious before, he was downright inquisitive now. “You get into many <em>consensual</em> fights, Jaebeom?”</p>
<p>“Nothing <em>too</em> illegal, don’t worry,” he answered, wondering why the hell he’d brought up the subject in the first place. </p>
<p>“Oh, no, don’t worry, that’s not what I was thinking about,” said Jinyoung hurriedly. “I was just wondering if that was the reason why you looked so beaten up.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom tried his best not to squirm under his gaze. “Yeah, fights happen here and there. Nothing too serious, though.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung got a spoonful of breakfast in his mouth, his mind trying its best to find a route for the conversation to get it out of the <em>suddenly awkwardly personal </em>stage. He startled himself when he heard his own laugh, remembering something he’d thought about in the bathroom.</p>
<p>“Of course, you don’t use lip balm.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom looked at him, puzzled, and found himself staring at how Jinyoung looked when he smiled, his eyes crinkling and his teeth showing for probably the first time. “W–what?”</p>
<p>“I was just thinking, your bathroom looked so bare, and then I look at you and you have the most chapped lips I’ve ever seen on a human being,” answered Jinyoung, unable to contain another giggle. </p>
<p>Jaebeom was too focused on the way Jinyoung’s face lit up when he laughed to blush at the accusation. He couldn’t remember ever buying lip balm, yeah, but he had some moisturizer and everything, that had to count, right? He had just assumed he’d been cursed with very crusty lips, nothing else. </p>
<p>“Here, let me–” Jinyoung’s hand automatically shot to his pockets, before seeming to remember that they’d been forcefully emptied the night before. “Ah, nevermind, sorry,” he sighed. </p>
<p>“Don’t worry, I don’t need–”</p>
<p>“Like hell you don’t,” said Jinyoung, sounding more involved in the state of Jaebeom’s lips than about any other thing they’d talked about yet. “I’ll buy you some damn balm, I swear.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom licked his lips self-consciously, his heart skipping an entire beat when Jinyoung followed the movement attentively.</p>
<p>“No, don’t lick them, fuck, that makes it worse,” Jinyoung groaned, eyes still focused on his mouth.</p>
<p>Jaebeom laughed, he couldn’t help it. “Okay, no more licking, I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>They both fully snorted at that, the ridiculousness of the situation catching up with their brains. </p>
<p>Their laughs sounded so nice together, thought Jaebeom out of nowhere. Harmonic, almost. </p>
<p>He shoveled the last of the porridge in his mouth in one big spoonful, suddenly noticing the time in the corner of his Interface. “Shit, we better get going.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In all fairness, Jinyoung thought, Jaebeom didn’t know that he’d never been even near the Underground Market. Still, he could’ve at least <em>told him </em>that was where they were going. </p>
<p>It was louder, brighter, thicker than he’d thought possible. It felt dangerous to be in it, surrounded by rivers of people coming and going, yelling and haggling and announcing their products, music pouring from ten different stores at once. All Jinyoung knew about the under was knowledge he’d gotten through the news, and that was that it was highly dangerous, and highly <em>illegal </em>all around. He unconsciously stuck to Jaebeom’s side, trying to not look at anyone, trying to make himself invisible. </p>
<p>And then, as if he had transitioned to a different dimension, he found himself in a shop. </p>
<p>“Jaebeom!”</p>
<p>A man with an old fashioned apron, a complicated augmentation rig around his eyes and an infectious smile greeted them. Or, Jaebeom, specifically. Of course.</p>
<p>“I swear I keep seeing you more and more often around here,” he added, a glint in his eyes. “Even if it’s not you thrashing your own equipment this time.”</p>
<p>“Hi, Jackson,” said Jaebeom, sounding more cheered up than he had in hours. It was no wonder, the guy’s positive energy seemed to be contagious. “It’s just like I told you last night, although he hasn’t told me much else about it.”</p>
<p>“Oh, the mystery guy, right!” Jinyoung blushed as he found the attention suddenly turning toward him. “Sorry to hear about that attack.”</p>
<p>“Y–yeah, thanks,” he managed. “Jaebeom told you, right? That I’ll find a way to pay you everything as soon as I’m back online.”</p>
<p>Jackson smiled brightly, reassuringly. “No worries! If Jaebeom vouches for you I know you’re trustable.”</p>
<p>For some reason, that only made the grip of anxiety on Jinyoung’s heart feel tighter. Jaebeom had been so nice, and he was only creating more danger for him. He managed to smile tightly through his worry. “Thanks.”</p>
<p>Under the work clothes, Jackson was muscular as shit, Jinyoung mused idly as he felt the man tinker with his brain from a distance. Probably worked out a lot. Jinyoung was lying on a table that looked well worn but clean, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of cables sticking out of his eyes. Nasty business, this Interface. Jackson was working on his computer setup nearby, fully focused on his work, completely ignoring Jaebeom looming over his shoulder, looking antsy as hell. </p>
<p>“God, do you always work with the direct connection like that? Looks like it hurts,” he said, hushed but not enough that Jinyoung couldn’t hear him. </p>
<p>Jackson waved him off. “Yes, you big baby, that’s what I do to everyone, that’s what I did to you too. It’s just a cable, I’m not cutting him open or anything.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom sighed. If Jinyoung wasn’t aware that he was pretty much a stranger to him, he would’ve thought that he <em>cared </em>about him. </p>
<p>
  <em>What the hell. </em>
</p>
<p>When his Interface lit up suddenly, Jinyoung gasped. The brightness was too much to bear after almost a full day of not using it, the pop-ups filling his vision and notifications flooding in. He threw everything to the side with an eye motion, his heart accelerating as he moved towards his credit balance. </p>
<p>It was red, worryingly red. Jinyoung sighed, the sight still feeling like a punch to the gut even after deep down already having known what was waiting for him. Of course his account had been wiped clean, of course he had no access to his own earnings anymore. Hell, his agency probably already considered him dead and was picking a fresh new face for the job. He slyly glanced at the news, trying to pay attention to the conversation happening in front of him at the same time.</p>
<p>“So, he’ll pay me soon, right?” </p>
<p>“Jackson, it’s okay, I told you he assured me he had some money,” Jaebeom sounded less worried than he ought to be. “Don’t worry, man, shit.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Disappearance of Pop Star Has Thousands of Fans in Grief</em>
</p>
<p>“He did say he might not have access to the credits, though, so maybe we can hit up Mark to see what he can do?”</p>
<p>
  <em>Pop Star Jinyoung’s Agency: We’re Heartbroken, But There’s Nothing Left for Us to Do at this Point</em>
</p>
<p>Jackson sighed, long and suffering. “Don’t get Mark involved in this shit, come on.”</p>
<p>“You’re telling me he wouldn’t love the opportunity to fuck with whoever has Jinyoung’s money?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, he would, but–”</p>
<p>
  <em>“I will do my best!” Mystery Pop Star Set to Debut Next Week, Following Agency’s Fellow Artist Jinyoung’s Disappearance</em>
</p>
<p>“Jinyoung?” </p>
<p>He snapped out of his search, Jaebeom’s worried expression on him. “All good?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” managed Jinyoung with a weak smile. “It works perfectly, actually.”</p>
<p>“Told you Jackson was the best at this.”</p>
<p>Behind him, Jackson let out a little scream. “I am so honored!”</p>
<p>Jaebeom got closer to him, his brow knitted in worry. God, could he read him and the situation so well already? Was Jinyoung getting worse at keeping a straight face?</p>
<p>“So, how’s everything with your, you know,” Jaebeom waved around helplessly, clearly trying to find a delicate way to say it, “account?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, sorry, fuck,” said Jinyoung, suddenly feeling very small and weak. “I got locked out already. Sorry.” He lowered his gaze, too ashamed to meet Jaebeom’s eyes. He had helped him so much, put his word on the line, and now Jinyoung had fucked it up. </p>
<p>“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Jaebeom looked concerned, but not overly so. “It seems like it’s time you meet someone else.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>“How come you have so many friends ready to fix all my problems?” muttered Jinyoung as he was guided from the backdoor of Jackson’s workshop toward a smaller, back alley room. The sounds of the street felt somehow dulled, even the oppressive heat less punishing in these darker streets. Jinyoung still kept himself close to Jaebeom, not minding at all how strangely comforting his solid body felt against his own. </p>
<p>He felt him vibrate with a laugh more than he heard it. “You can’t help but make connections when you live around here, I guess.”</p>
<p>Jackson stopped dead on his tracks upon hearing that, almost making them crash against him. “You consider us <em>connections? </em>Not friends?” he gasped dramatically. “Jaebeom, I’m <em>wounded.”</em></p>
<p>Jaebeom laughed openly at that, the sound echoing incongruently in the dim buildings around them. He had such a cute laugh, Jinyoung mused. Such a big, loud laugh shouldn’t be<em> cute, </em>exactly, but in Jaebeom it was. As if he was suddenly showing a part of himself that he wouldn’t normally let the world know about, something bright and vibrant. </p>
<p>“Alright, scaredy cat, here we are.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung gaped at the entrance, confused. There was no storefront, no sign, just an old metal door appearing to be locked tight. He realized that he had no idea what he was doing here, actually. </p>
<p>“So this Mark guy, what does he do?”</p>
<p>Jackson grinned back at him, the pride unmistakable on his face. “Mark is a hacker, one of the best ones.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung had no time to process that before the door creaked open, a mop of bright hair and a brighter smile appearing from behind it. “Jackson! What the hell, shouldn’t you be working at this hour?” </p>
<p>“Hey, blame Jaebeom, not me,” said Jackson, but still smiled at the sight of the kid. </p>
<p>Mark grinned, opening the door wider upon seeing the rest of the little troupe waiting at the door. He looked smaller against the stocky frame of Jackson’s and Jaebeom’s bodies, but there was something so fluid about the way he moved, Jinyoung found himself entranced. </p>
<p>“Heard you got your ass kicked the other night,” he said in way of a greeting, his eyes inquisitively scanning Jinyoung up and down as he did. </p>
<p>“Oh, my God,” groaned Jaebeom.</p>
<p>“So, who’s the new one?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung cleared his throat, tried not to stare at Mark too obviously. He had such a pretty face, with piercings glinting here and there, and he couldn’t help but notice the bits of wire sticking out of ports in his neck and trailing down the floor. A hacker, huh. </p>
<p>“I’m–I’m Jinyoung.”</p>
<p>“Hm, what did you get yourself into that you’re coming to me for help, Jinyoung?” </p>
<p>He sighed. Every time he repeated his situation to a new person he sounded more pathetic to his own ears, just a dumb kid letting himself get robbed in the middle of the street. Mark looked empathetic, though, as he listened to him go through it again.</p>
<p>“I mean, I wouldn’t have much hope if I were you, I’m pretty sure my shit is encrypted and behind ten firewalls now,” Jinyoung said, letting himself be guided into a room cramped with <em>so much shit </em>that only the light of an impressive looking net rig could be distinguished from everything else. He had never really seen one of the machines up close, the general consensus around him being that they were reserved for criminals that needed to hide themselves from the law. This one looked <em>pretty, </em>though, and it was clear that Mark took great care of it. </p>
<p>Mark giggled. “Oh, we’ll see about that.” He waved his hand toward something that in the dim light was barely identifiable as a couch, plopping himself in front of the rig as he spoke. “You’ll have to give me a bit more info about you, though.” He connected at least five different cables that dangled loose from the ports etched directly onto his skin. Augmentations, of course. </p>
<p>“Uhh, would connecting to my Interface be okay?” Shit, thought Jinyoung even as he spoke. Shit, Mark would see <em>everything. </em></p>
<p>“Yeah, that’s fine for me,” answered Mark distractedly, already waving his fingers around in a complicated dance. </p>
<p>“Yeah, most people use wireless net connections nowadays,” whispered Jaebeom upon seeing how fascinated Jinyoung was by the whole situation, “but the connection is still definitely faster if you’re wired in.”</p>
<p>Mark hummed from his place. “I’ll request access now, Jinyoung. Is that okay?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung took a deep breath, spent a second considering his options, and gave in. “Yeah, go ahead.”</p>
<p>Mark relaxed on his chair, his fingers flying and the rig buzzing into action. To his credit, he only reacted with a soft <em>oh, damn, </em>clearly receiving all the information he needed. </p>
<p>Jaebeom hadn’t stopped looking at Jinyoung’s profile since they’d sat down. To be fair, he knew Mark’s place well enough to be almost bored by the proliferation of tech and other random shit, and Jinyoung was… Jinyoung was new. He sat up straight, even on the tiny couch, his hands clenching into fists. There was something about him that drew Jaebeom in, kept him staring, like every moment was the first. His lips were parted open, and there was a small cut beginning to heal on a corner. Anticipation? Fear? </p>
<p>It was such a <em>pretty mouth, </em>all full lips and a cute pout. </p>
<p>Jaebeom almost slapped himself. <em>Don’t be fucking creepy. </em>The kid was clearly fearing for his life, and going through some rough shit, the last thing he needed was someone acting weird. </p>
<p>His throat bobbed gently every time he tried to swallow discreetly and failed, the hair flopping shiny and careless on his forehead. Jaebeom suddenly found himself wondering if he could usually afford to get hair and skin treatments on the daily. Sure looked so, he thought. </p>
<p>“Oh, <em>shit.”</em></p>
<p>The amazed gasp came from Mark, ripping him away from his thoughts. </p>
<p>“Uh, Jinyoung?”</p>
<p>“...Yeah?” </p>
<p>He sounded more apprehensive than ever, more worried than when he confessed that he had no place to stay, biting down on his lip. Jaebeom exchanged a look with Jackson, who was sitting on the other side of the couch, looking at him in confusion.</p>
<p>“Good news, and better news,” said Mark. His head had dropped back on his chair, his eyes glassy and focused on some net space that only he could see. “Dude, wow.”</p>
<p>“Is everything okay?”</p>
<p>“Uh, yeah. You’re fucking <em>rich</em>, what the hell.”</p>
<p>Despite everything, Jinyoung felt himself blush. Two pairs of eyes bore into him, one from each side, and he suddenly wished he could disappear into the floor. God, of course they’d find out. <em>Stupid. </em></p>
<p>Mark cleared his throat, his hands reaching to pull the cables from his nape. “So, uh, I take it you didn’t tell them?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung closed his eyes. God, what would they <em>think </em>of him?</p>
<p>“Jinyoung here is, uh, the pop star. Jinyoung. Thought the name sounded familiar.”</p>
<p>“Huh?!” said Jackson, loud as shit right next to his ear. </p>
<p>“Huh?” echoed Jaebeom, much quieter. </p>
<p>Jinyoung struggled desperately to find the right words. “I, uh, kind of wanted to start ove–”</p>
<p>Jaebeom looked at him, his attention displaced by something in his Interface. “Uh, your wiki page lists you as dead?”</p>
<p>
  <em>Jesus Christ, they were fast. </em>
</p>
<p>Jinyoung sighed. “God, please don’t hate me.”</p>
<p>“Why the hell would we hate you, this is the coolest thing that’s happened to me in a long time!” said Jackson, delighted. “Oh my God, I fixed a celeb’s Interface.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung licked his lips, trying to gauge the situation clearly. Jaebeom was looking at him as if he was seeing him for the first time, his face screwed with concentration. Mark just grinned at him, fascinated. </p>
<p>He sighed again. “The better news first, please.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah, I can totally get your money, dude.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung felt relief wash over him. He wouldn’t have to owe them anymore, these incredibly kind people who had helped him with no promise of reward would actually get the money they deserved, Jaebeom who had fucking <em>quit his job </em>for some reason, they–</p>
<p>“Wait, you say <em>get,” </em>said Jaebeom, cutting his line of thought short, “do you mean, legally, or?”</p>
<p>Mark snorted. “What do you think?”</p>
<p>“Right, right, of course.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung straightened at that. “Wait, you’re going to <em>hack </em>my account?”</p>
<p>“Well, not exactly hack like people think it works,” answered Mark, already hooked back to the wires and his hands dancing in the air. “Just some social engineering here and there and I will get you the stuff, I swear.” He snorted again. “Hell, they might just have a single auth factorset up  for this shit, it does seem like they had to do this hastily.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung nodded, remembered that Mark wasn’t looking at him, and cleared his throat. “Yeah, actually, you’re getting the right idea, yes.”</p>
<p>“You’re <em>so</em> going to tell us all about you before he does it, though,” said Jackson.</p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>“Well, yeah, dude! Are you kidding me, you’re the closest I’ve ever met a celebrity! Oh my God, I’m sharing Mark’s ugly couch with a celebrity!”</p>
<p>Jinyoung smiled, he couldn’t help it. The longer he kept smiling, he mused, the less it felt like his skin was too tight against his skull, and the more natural it felt. </p>
<hr/>
<p>They were occupying the only available space in a shaved ice parlor–a tiny table littered with old cups and puddles of sugary water–the bright sign incongruent among the others in a corner of the under. Jinyoung could almost forget where he was if he didn’t think about it too hard, the noise already fading into comfortable background droning. </p>
<p>Jaebeom had insisted that they went there, muttering something about how the mess in Mark’s place stressed him out. </p>
<p>Now he was trying the first shaved ice of his life, the synth sugar sparkling between his teeth when he bit into it. The cold made him shiver despite the heavy heat of the place, the ice already beginning to melt in his cup. </p>
<p>Nobody had talked since he had finished his own story, even as he tried to dismiss the tragedy as much as possible. At some point the tall, sweet looking kid who had served them the ice joined them, his eyes big as saucers, Jaebeom reassuring Jinyoung that he was a friend. </p>
<p>“He helps me with the, you know,” he said, blushing again, “fighting stuff.”</p>
<p>The kid–Yugyeom, his name was Yugyeom, he remembered–was the first one to talk. “Does this mean you’ll be able to pay for the ice? These guys never pay, it’s getting annoying.”</p>
<p>Jackson swatted him playfully, everyone breaking into laughter. </p>
<p>“Hey, you should be grateful that I make you money, you brat,” said Jaebeom, grabbing him in a chokehold and rubbing his head before releasing him. He hadn’t stopped looking at Jinyoung for a second, his gaze deeply attentive and concerned all at once, making him feel like he was the only thing in his world for that moment. </p>
<p>“Anyways, Jinyoung, does that mean you have nowhere to live now?” Yugyeom’s eyes were filled with what looked like genuine worry, after drinking every word he’d said. </p>
<p>“Oh, I’m staying with Jaebeom now! He’s been kind enough to let me crash there for a couple of days until I can start figuring out my life.”</p>
<p>Pause. A significant look too private to decode between Mark and Jackson. </p>
<p>Jaebeom beamed at him, unaware. “Yeah, I just hope it’s not too cramped for you.” </p>
<p>“Damn, this is some development right here, isn’t it?” said Mark finally, his eyebrows rising. </p>
<p>Jinyoung found himself caught between wanting to politely laugh at some internal joke he didn’t understand and risking sounding rude by asking too many questions. He was grateful when Jackson came to his rescue, waving his hands around and laughing himself. </p>
<p>“Jaebeom has never let anyone sleep over at his place since he got it, you know,” he said, ignoring Jaebeom’s pointed stare. “He says he’s worried about us trashing it, or something.”</p>
<p>“What am I supposed to think, seeing the dumps you people live in?” retorted Jaebeom, wounded. </p>
<p>Jackson stuck his tongue out playfully, and that seemed enough to end the conversation for a minute. Everyone turned their attention to the remainders of their shaved ice, rivulets of water running down the cups and staining the table. So Jinyoung was the first person to be allowed to stay in Jaebeom’s apartment, huh. As sketchy as he probably looked, as many excuses anyone could’ve had to ignore him, he’d held him and bought him food and–</p>
<p>“Well, I can search up the closest hotel, no worries,” he said before he could stop himself. “You know, I wouldn’t want to impose, or anything.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom looked up, the strawberry coloring staining his mouth brighter where some cuts and bruises were still fresh. He mumbled, almost embarrassed to be looking him in the eyes. “All we have around are coffin hotels and they’re terrible, don’t even think about it.”</p>
<p>“Oooh, Jinyoung, have you ever been to a coffin hotel? Has the big idol star ever slept in a tiny space wearing paper slippers and with two drunks in the nearby compartments?” Yugyeom sounded half genuine, half teasing, a bright grin on his face, Jinyoung could already see why they liked the kid. </p>
<p>“Hey, beats having to stay with you, I’m sure,” he said, the joke happening almost by reflex, the words out before he could stop and think. Oh, shit.</p>
<p>Yugyeom, however, laughed openly at that, his giggles infectious enough that the whole table followed him.</p>
<p>“Aww, Jaebeom, you found yourself a match with the attitude, it seems,” he added. </p>
<p>Jaebeom only sighed, unable to hide the fond look on his face. “Prepare for your demise, kid.”</p>
<p>A loud ping and a bright call to attention on his Interface ripped Jinyoung out of his thoughts. He had time to wonder how long he’d been eating with them, how long it had been since he’d last had to answer an urgent call, how even if it had been less than a full day he felt a warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt in years. The message was short, but to the point. </p>
<p>
  <em>I know you’re hiding from me. </em>
</p>
<p>Senior. </p>
<p>Jinyoung forced himself to stifle the scream that threatened to spill from his throat. God, of course he wouldn’t be satisfied with stripping him of his job, his contract, locking him out of his own money. Of course the man who had spent years delighting in his task of keeping his leash as tight as possible and dumping his own frustrations on him wouldn’t be satisfied with a clean death to the world. </p>
<p>Another ping. </p>
<p>
  <em>You better have your location services off, kid. </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>Jinyoung hadn’t said a word since he had opened his Interface at the shop, and Jaebeom would have felt hurt if the hunted, terrified look on his face hadn’t been enough to make his own heart clench. </p>
<p>He’d gone up to Jackson, suddenly, with a ferocity he hadn’t shown before, babbling about his location and the Interface and <em>danger, </em>and everyone had been confused enough except Mark, who’d taken control of the situation surprisingly fast. They were piling up in Jackson’s studio again now, Jaebeom pacing nervously at the sight of Jackson and Mark focusing on Jinyoung’s unconscious form, trying their best to extract and disable shit that was very much protected against extraction and disabling.</p>
<p>“Jaebeom.” Yugyeom’s hand found its way to his shoulder, warm, transmitting so much care in just one touch. “Come sit with me.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom sighed, his fists clenching. Fear and rage pooled deep in his throat, seeping toward his limbs, itching. “He said he was in danger.”</p>
<p>Yugyeom guided him gently to join him on the spot on the floor where he’d been sitting. Jackson didn’t have seats, or a proper waiting room, and he’d kicked both of them out from his working space to the small storage room he had in the back. Jaebeom sighed, allowing himself to sink to the floor, his fingernails biting painfully against the flesh of his hands.</p>
<p>“We’ll help him with that, it’s okay,” Yugyeom’s voice was soft, the voice Jaebeom would use to talk to stray cats he walked past and convince them to eat whatever food he could find on him at the time. Maybe in a different situation he’d be offended by the kid treating him like this, maybe years before, but at that exact moment Jaebeom felt like he was drowning, like there was a heavy weight on his chest, settling down from the exact moment he saw Jinyoung’s eyes flood with dread for the first time. </p>
<p>He let his head rest against the wall, noticing for the first time that he was clenching his teeth. He willed himself to relax for a second, wishing that he could think something, <em>feel something </em>beyond the red haze that surrounded him. “He’s fucking terrified, Yugyeom. What if it’s not enough? What if whatever’s after him finds him even without his location on?”</p>
<p>He heard a dull <em>thud</em> as his fist hit the floor, but he didn’t feel it at all. </p>
<p>Yugyeom had known him for a long time. He’d been just a kid at first, starry eyed by everything Jaebeom did, asking for advice and comfort and protection from the world. Before the concert fiasco, before the fighting started, back in a time when they still danced carelessly, and Jaebeom’s piano wasn’t a neat decorative stand in his apartment, before everything had crashed down on him. </p>
<p>Before <em>he </em>had crashed everything down on himself. Jaebeom chewed on that thought, viciously, endlessly. </p>
<p>Yugyeom knew sometimes there was nothing harder for him than putting what he felt into words without shattering. </p>
<p>And then he felt Yugyeom’s hand covering his, still on the floor, still balled up in fear, and Jaebeom felt himself choking up, and he thought <em>If I lose any of them I will have nothing left, </em>and he gave in and allowed himself to be held. The light above them came from an old fluorescent tube, its light clinical in its brightness, and he felt himself tetter the border toward losing himself completely.</p>
<p>“I hope whoever’s tracking him is punchable enough,” he murmured. </p>
<p>Yugyeom snorted, moving so he was holding Jaebeom flush next to him. “Or maybe we don’t need to meet the guy ever and we can forget about this and laugh about it in the future.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom groaned. “I want to protect the guy, Yugyeom. I don’t usually get like this, it’s worrying me.”</p>
<p>“You <em>don’t usually get like this? </em>Like what, a kind person willing to help someone in need?”</p>
<p>Jaebeom sighed wordlessly.</p>
<p>“Jaebeom, you’re acting like you’re some kind of monster, dude.”</p>
<p>“Am I not?”</p>
<p>“Hey. Look at me.” Yugyeom steeled his tone, or tried, at least. “You can’t bullshit me like that anymore, remember? Don’t you dare.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom wanted to answer, but the words seemed too far away to reach.</p>
<p>“We’ve gone through this. You’ve…” he floundered his hands around, trying to find a delicate way to put it. “You know yourself too well to think that.”</p>
<p>The bruises still fresh on Jaebeom’s face throbbed softly, the pain gentle but constant. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Jaebeom sighed. His hands relaxed slowly, tentatively, one finger at a time. </p>
<p>It seemed like an eternity passed in one second before the door opened just a crack, at which they both stood up in the blink of an eye. Under the doorframe stood Mark, looking exhausted but proud of himself. “From worldwide popstar to virtually untraceable in a couple of days, how’s that?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Jinyoung thought he would feel the absence physically, like an extracted tooth or a missing limb, but the truth was he didn’t feel any different at all. Uncertainty chased the ends of his awareness, itching with doubt. </p>
<p>“How do we know that it worked?” he asked, or tried to, his tongue still feeling too big in his mouth and his vision blurring alarmingly every time he moved his eyes.</p>
<p>“Well, first of all, we’re good at our jobs,” Mark said, busy cleaning up the dozens of instruments and tools around them. “Second of all, I can’t see you on my Interface at all. Like, you’re gone.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom perked up a bit at that, even if his expression was still ghostly pale. He’d rushed in when Jinyoung was still grasping with his consciousness, staring at Jinyoung like he’d made peace with never seeing him again and now had to rework his expectations in his head. </p>
<p>Jinyoung couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen someone openly showing how much they cared. His life had been chock-full of people treating him like fine china because their income rested on his shoulders, but Jaebeom was different, somehow. </p>
<p>He cleared his throat, his eyes traveling quickly, clearly scanning his own Interface. </p>
<p>“Holy shit, it’s true,” he said. His voice was barely above a rasp. “I’m seeing you in front of me, but nothing pops up here, no info, no ID, nothing.”</p>
<p>Yugyeom laughed at his amazement. “They aren’t the best around for no reason!”</p>
<p>Jinyoung looked up at them, the iron grip in his throat relaxing slowly, as if it still refused to believe that he wasn’t about to meet his demise any second. He managed to swallow, the enormity of what they had done dawning on him. “Thank you.” </p>
<p>Mark and Jackson flashed equally blinding smiles, lapping up the praise.</p>
<p>“How does it feel, our ghost?” Mark was scanning his Interface as he spoke. Before Jinyoung could answer, he grinned even wider, resting against a desk in triumph. “Got your money, ghost boy?”</p>
<p>“Huh? Already?”</p>
<p>Mark made a swooping motion and sent a jpeg toward Jinyoung’s Interface. “They fell for a fake log-in page, can you believe? So basic.”</p>
<p>Jackson snickered next to him, pulling off his work gloves. “Top hacking work, I’m sure.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung was barely listening to them, hurrying to open his account with numb fingers. It was there, it was all there and it was<em> theirs</em>, he could pay everyone for all they had done to him. Relief finally flooded in fully, and he was hurrying to get everyone’s info from their Interfaces and wiring the money when the noise of a door closing was loud enough to make him focus on the real world instead. </p>
<p>Jaebeom was gone. </p>
<p>Yugyeom was still there, trying to smile and stammer an apology at the same time, already reaching for the closed door to try and go after Jaebeom. </p>
<p>Jinyoung felt a cold twang in his chest. If before he was choking with worry, right now it was only a drip, a snaking finger reeling him in, worry nagging in the bottom of his stomach. He tried to stand up, found his legs turned into jelly and his head swimming in nausea, and lied back down. </p>
<p>The last thing he heard before closing his eyes again was Jackson’s voice. It was weak, far away, but the word was clear enough. </p>
<p>“Shit.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Jaebeom knew he was making a mistake the moment he threw the first punch at the bag. His hands, carelessly wrapped in the heat of the moment, crawled with pain at the first contact, the last fight’s bruises not even fully bloomed yet. </p>
<p>He tried to build up a rhythm, forcing himself to connect the blows even if his self-preservation instinct recoiled every time, the ache brighter and sharper with each hit. </p>
<p>The notification from Jinyoung’s transaction still shone in the corner of his Interface, but he couldn’t find the strength to dismiss it. He wished closing his eyes made it go away.</p>
<p>His entire body groaned at his movements, but he kicked the ache down. Grit your teeth hard enough and you will find it easier to push through. </p>
<p><em>That’s it, then, </em>he thought. <em>He got his help, got his money, paid us back. </em></p>
<p>He could smell his own sweat, acrid and ugly in the emptiness of the room. </p>
<p>He wondered if he’d see Jinyoung in the news soon, the return of the worldwide superstar plastered on every portal. </p>
<p>
  <em>What the fuck were you expecting?</em>
</p>
<p>Everything from his wrists down was numb. He wished his brain would stop, too.</p>
<p>
  <em>Did you really think he would stay with a good-for-nothing who can’t even offer him a bed to sleep on?</em>
</p>
<p>The white noise in his ears overtook him quickly, until all he saw was the punching bag in front of him, recoiling from the hits. </p>
<p>At some point, he thought about Jinyoung still wearing his t-shirt, a drop of cherry-red shaved ice slowly sliding down from his lower lip. </p>
<p>And then he <em>heard </em>a crack more than he felt it, and the noise was what actually ripped him from his thoughts far enough to make him think, and something in his hand just felt <em>wrong. </em></p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p>
<p>The blur of panic was immediate, threatening to drown him. He didn’t know if he was still standing up or if he had fallen down. He’d broken fingers enough times to know what was going on, and he could’ve kicked himself for his stupidity. </p>
<p>Half formed curses left his lips, his brain scrambling to think. By the time he registered someone else’s hands on him, his brain still insisting on drowning him in shock like a thick blanket, he was startled enough to think he was hallucinating. </p>
<p>“Shit, are you okay?” the voice sounded terrified, but it took Jaebeom only one more second to realize that he was being held up exclusively by those hands. </p>
<p>“We gotta take you to get help, come on.”</p>
<p>“Jinyoung?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s me, come on, you gotta tell me where we can get you help,” he said, an edge of panic creeping into his voice. “I don’t know anything about this place.”</p>
<p>“You…” Jaebeom wasn’t sure he was speaking out loud at all. “You’re supposed to be gone, what are you doing here?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung huffed somewhere above him. Fleetingly, Jaebeom wondered if he was struggling with his dead weight against his body or if he was mad at him for some reason. </p>
<p>“Jaebeom. Come on. Where am I taking you.”</p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>Jaebeom felt himself dropping onto the cement floor, and the sudden cold was the most rational sensation he’d felt in maybe hours. How long had he been here? His gaze dropped to his hands, making him wince when he saw how shoddily he’d wrapped them and the angle of his little finger that was just <em>wrong</em>. “Youngjae.”</p>
<p>Warm, somehow sweaty fingers found his chin and forced him to look up. Jinyoung was squatting next to him, his eyebrows knitted in worry, a gasp stuck in his lips. He was <em>sweaty, </em>thought Jaebeom stupidly. “Did you run here?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung looked at him like he was a child, something fragile and exhausting at the same time. “I don’t know who this Youngjae is, Jaebeom.”</p>
<p>Right.</p>
<p>Numbness began to recede as Jaebeom took in Jinyoung’s frame, the tremble in his voice, the first tendrils of pain beginning to snake their way down his hand. Everything in his view was still swimming, but he tried his best to focus. Jinyoung needed him to focus. </p>
<p>“Youngjae’s… a friend,” he said. He found that he couldn’t tear his gaze from Jinyoung’s eyes even if he tried. “He’s got some basic medical training, he’s helped me before. We don’t have an actual hospital around here,” he added upon seeing Jinyoung’s confused expression.</p>
<p>“Is it far? Can you walk there?” </p>
<p>Jaebeom felt his face shaping in a smile, somehow. “It’s a broken knuckle, Jinyoungie. I’m fine.”</p>
<p>The backroom felt cramped with two people in it, the single lightbulb giving definitely less light than necessary. Jaebeom wondered if the harsh shadows on Jinyoung’s face could be just a trick of the light, or if he really looked <em>that</em> tired. </p>
<p>His Interface lit up with a pointless pop-up, and he frowned when he saw the time. “What the hell, how long have I been here?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung grabbed his arm and did his best to force him to stand up while still being careful. “First aid first.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom sighed and let himself be tugged upwards, gravity feeling immense against Jinyoung’s pull.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Jinyoungie.</em>
</p>
<p>That was new. </p>
<p>Jinyoung tried to wrap his tongue around the word, to sound it out as quietly as possible, replaying how it felt to hear it over and over again. Jinyoungie. </p>
<p>Youngjae, as it turned out, lived only a couple of blocks away, if the narrow alleys of the under could be called blocks. Considering that the place where he’d found Jaebeom looked like some kind of fighting ring, he mused, having someone with medical knowledge nearby would definitely have been adequate. </p>
<p>Youngaje turned out to be a loud kid with an easy laugh, who only cackled when he saw the two people on his doorstep. Even now, as he worked around Jaebeom’s injured hand and set it correctly, he talked and laughed with all of them at once, his easy-going movements actually settling down the nervous rhythm of Jinyoung’s heartbeat.</p>
<p>“He’s usually more talkative, but I guess seeing Jaebeom being careless again has him less than happy,” said the tall, wiry kid with the mop of bright pink hair that had shown Jinyoung a chair to sit on. “I don’t know how much you know about Jaebeom, but…” his voice trailed off, probably noticing that he was talking to a virtual stranger. </p>
<p>“Sorry for interrupting your practice, by the way,” deflected Jinyoung. He was still trying to replay the scene since he’d wired the payments at Jackson’s lab, Jaebeom’s sudden exit, his own wobbly steps behind him, Yugyeom reluctantly giving him directions to the right place, the grunts of pain he could hear even as he approached the room where he’d found him in the end. </p>
<p>Jinyoung tried to remember how the streets around him looked on the way to the dark ring, a blur of artificial light and unintelligible noise around him. He stole a glance at Jaebeom’s back, and the tense line of his shoulders made him frown. </p>
<p>“Nah, it’s all good!” pink-hair giggled. “I’m Bambam, by the way. Old friend. Adoptive son, almost.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung gave him a long look. “Adoptive–”</p>
<p>“Figure of speech! Although, they really kind of raised me, if you think about it.”</p>
<p>“He used to barely reach my chest,” Jaebeom chimed in. “Easier days, if you ask me.”</p>
<p>Bambam gasped in fake despair. “I, on the other hand, think I’m <em>delightful.”</em></p>
<p>Jinyoung huffed out a laugh. He was immediately charmed by the comfortable atmosphere they had going, clearly brought from years of knowing each other. They seemed… <em>nice. </em></p>
<p>Youngjae’s splinting process was efficient, and their chatter was loud and entertaining enough that before Jinyoung could think too much Bambam was pressing a chipped mug full of synth coffee in his hand and asking him to tell them more about himself. Jinyoung sipped on it slowly, repeating the highlights once again and letting his mind wander around the place. </p>
<p>Youngjae and Bambam had been rehearsing when they’d walked in, but they’d put the instruments as soon as they had seen the situation at hand. Jinyoung had managed to see an old keyboard in the corner where Youngjae had probably been sitting, and Bambam had put down a beat-up looking but still shiny pink guitar. The music that had seeped through the cracks of the door had been some upbeat sugary track, sticky enough that the hook was still circling around Jinyoung’s head. He thought of Jaebeom’s keyboard, buried under boxes. </p>
<p>“So, does Jaebeom play with you guys?” he asked.</p>
<p>The air congealed before the question was fully out of his mouth. There were some exchanged looks, a telepathy in the air that Jinyoung suddenly ached to share, and the weight of some unknown past was dropped heavily on the cheery group.</p>
<p>The moment stretched longer, threatening to snap on their faces. Youngjae was the one who took it on himself to reply even as his gaze was locked on Jaebeom. </p>
<p>“He used to, yes!” he said, saccharine sweet. “It’s just the two of us now, though.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom coughed awkwardly. </p>
<p>Jinyoung almost hissed through his teeth, wishing he could put the pieces back together of whatever he had clearly forcefully shattered without meaning to. Before he could find a suitable answer–would it be <em>sorry, </em>or would a bland <em>oh, that’s cool </em>be better, he genuinely didn’t know–Bambam made a quick pun and the tension receded a bit. </p>
<p>Jaebeom laughed with them, a bit forced, the smile not reaching his eyes completely. He was an enigma of tangled perceptions that Jinyoung couldn’t hope to undo, and the notion felt heavy in his heart for some reason. </p>
<p>He drank another sip of coffee, and the engineered bitterness clung to his tongue as it went down. </p>
<hr/>
<p>“I really inserted my foot into my mouth back there, didn’t I?”</p>
<p>The endless lull of a thousand vehicles outside and the souls that occupied them wasn’t enough to drown the whisper in Jinyoung’s voice. He sounded ashamed to Jaebeom’s ears, and he longed to erase it from the moment he heard it. Jinyoung’s laugh was deep, full, as if he was laughing from the depths of his body and into the crinkling of his eyes, but this small tone made Jaebeom’s chest ache.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“Just–I talk too much, sometimes.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung sat cross-legged on the futon, and the timid lightbulb did nothing to make him look less small even in the narrow room. He held one of Jaebeom’s cups in both hands, the one with the crack across the handle. </p>
<p>“I don’t think you do,” said Jaebeom, schooling his voice to not betray how he knew <em>exactly </em>what Jinyoung was talking about. He didn’t dare to ask Jinyoung to share the futon with him. Maybe he needed to invest in chairs. “I think they like you a lot, actually.”</p>
<p>They had taken a transport home, Jaebeom shrugging and pushing him forward when the bot driver had asked mechanically for Interface and coin. Nobody paid for transports anymore, not down here. </p>
<p>The ride had been hushed, as if the darkness would’ve been broken if they had dared to talk, as if it would’ve shown too much of the other too early. </p>
<p>Too early?</p>
<p>Jaebeom tried again to imagine his life if Jinyoung disappeared from it, and he wasn’t too shocked by the pang of longing in his stomach at the mere thought. </p>
<p>“I–” he started. He took a deep breath and pushed the words out through the veil of shame that clogged his throat. “I thought you would leave.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung looked up at that, startled. “What?”</p>
<p>“I just–you’d gotten your money, I figured you would be ready to go back to your real home then.” He was mumbling, as he always did once he got too far into his own head, but he couldn’t make himself stop. He hoped Jinyoung cared enough to try and understand anyways. </p>
<p>“My <em>real </em>home?” </p>
<p>His eyes were pained. God, Jaebeom just kept hurting people so easily, didn’t he. </p>
<p>“I can’t go back,” Jinyoung whispered. “My manager… my boss… they’ve already found a replacement for me, didn’t you see? I can’t go back. I don’t <em>want </em>to go back.”</p>
<p>His voice almost broke in the last syllable, but he hid it with a cough. The rush of conflicting emotions forced Jaebeom to take a deep breath, lest he drowned in them. <em>I don’t want to go back. </em></p>
<p>His hands felt awkward at the end of his arms, foreign. Jaebeom tried staring at them for a change, focusing on the careful splinter Youngjae had applied. It hurt distantly now, a soft throb that could be endured but that still existed with every heartbeat. </p>
<p>If the silence went on for any longer, Jaebeom feared that it would swallow them completely. “Can’t even play the keyboard now that I’m like this,” he said, weakly attempting a joke and waving his injured hand around.</p>
<p>Jinyoung rustled in his place. “I bet you could play something nice with just the right hand, though,” he pointed out, and his voice sounded completely different, as a sudden ray of light breaking through a cloudy sky. </p>
<p>“Eh, it’s been a long time.”</p>
<p>A second trickled by, endlessly. Jinyoung broke the silence timidly. “Can I try?”</p>
<p>Jaebeom felt the presence of the keyboard in the corner of the room weighing on him like a physical pressure. A tiny crack ran across a wall he’d never even noticed putting up. </p>
<p>“Let me check if it even still works,” he sighed.</p>
<p>Once upon a time, electric keyboards had been the poor man’s only option if they wanted to imitate the genuine instrument. Jaebeom had seen unplugged pianos in pictures, but he’d never gotten to be near one. He knew that technology had advanced beyond the need for traditional instruments, just as it was in the process of getting rid of traditional performers, too. </p>
<p>As he adjusted the knobs and tried to blow some dust off the keys with embarrassment, Jaebeom stole a glance in Jinyoung’s direction. He’d never really cared for the pop scene, so he had a hard time trying to picture him in the outfits he’d seen in the billboards and ads for idol stars–no image was stronger than seeing him wearing his old t-shirt that first night. </p>
<p>A key was pressed and a couple of buttons were adjusted, and, just like that, sound came out. It was tinny, lacking the proper sound banks to make the samples realistic, but that note alone was enough to make Jaebeom shiver. </p>
<p>He forced himself to look up. “All yours,” he said. </p>
<p>Jinyoung’s heart leaped to his throat without warning. His mind went fuzzy with the speed with which he tried to figure out what he wanted to do. The latest repertory for his concert was still seared into his memory, but would Jaebeom even <em>want </em>to hear that? Even thinking about the songs made the back of his tongue feel metallic and wrong.</p>
<p>The instrument looked simple enough in front of him, but he noticed with a start that his fingers were trembling. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt anything beyond exhaustion when thinking about music, he realized. </p>
<p>The first notes of a melody opened into his thoughts like clear water through the mud. It was surprisingly easy to allow himself to follow them and turn them into sound; just two measures, just a little motif.</p>
<p>Next to him, Jaebeom held his breath. </p>
<p>“Is that one of yours?” Jaebeom asked softly once the melody stopped. </p>
<p>“Yeah, well–not from the ones that I perform,” he replied, not knowing what words would come out from his mouth until they did. “This one is... mine.”</p>
<p>He repeated the little sequence. He’d never been expected to provide his own music to perform, it hadn’t even been brought up, but sometimes little pieces found their way to his thoughts and he hummed them when he had the time. He hadn’t thought about this one in a long, long time. </p>
<p>“It’s not even a full song, I don’t even have lyrics for it, just–”</p>
<p>Jaebeom had stepped back once he’d invited him to play, but he was still standing close to his left. The angle was awkward, but as Jinyoung went through the melody once again he added a single bass note with his index finger. Jinyoung’s first thought was that he looked like a kid learning to play. </p>
<p>“Was that the harmony you were thinking of?” he asked, moving to the second note. </p>
<p>Jinyoung nodded. “Yeah, the–the fifth is right for that one. For the next… maybe fourth?”</p>
<p>Jaebeom’s finger moved, filling in the melody with just one note. Jinyoung had always liked how it was possible to add so much richness with just a second note, a supporting bass to pull it all together. In a different life, he thought he might’ve liked to learn to play the bass. </p>
<p>“It’s pretty,” Jaebeom said once they’d gone through the whole snippet. “Loved that final part, did you have any ideas for a chorus?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung felt his throat go dry, as if he was being tested on something he hadn’t prepared for. “I… hadn’t really thought about it yet?” </p>
<p>Jaebeom ran his three non-splintered fingers over the keys some more–index, middle and thumb–his face already lighting up a bit. A weight that Jinyoung had barely noticed on his chest lifted up as soon as he saw that little smile on his face.</p>
<p>“What, you have any ideas?”</p>
<p>Jaebeom hummed. “I have something old that could kinda fit, if we tweak it a bit? I mean–” he stopped himself, “just if you want, of course. It’s your song after all.”</p>
<p>He played a bit more, the notes mashing together a bit awkwardly since he was still playing in the lower registers but still clearly creating a melody. Jinyoung felt a tiny bird of interest taking flight from his chest. He was still amazed that he could even remember the dumb tune, and now this–</p>
<p>“Yeah, of course! I mean, I bet you have all this experience with playing, and…”</p>
<p>He stopped himself, but it was too late. The strange awkwardness of earlier rushed back in, shattering the moment, making Jinyoung itch. Outside, a siren began to blare. There was always a cacophony of alarms and noise seeping through the window, but this one sounded closer than the others. </p>
<p>If Jaebeom let it fester any more, he thought he could implode into nothingness. Jinyoung was looking at him with something that could almost be read as pity in his eyes, looking so small after showing him a sliver of his heart through song, and yet so inquisitive. </p>
<p>Jaebeom couldn’t do this to him. </p>
<p>“It was my fault,” he whispered. He could feel Jinyoung’s eyes on him even if he didn’t dare look up. The siren grew distant, but another one quickly joined the first. “The band, I–I fucked up.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung’s fingers were still over the keys, as were Jaebeom’s. He moved them closer almost without thinking about it, an action that felt both automatic and planned for a long time. </p>
<p>The contact made both of them gasp, even if they probably would deny it. It was a spark, and a current, and a thousand words they couldn’t say out loud no matter how hard they tried. Jinyoung wished he had the magical phrase that would make the crease in Jaebeom’s brow disappear; he knew he’d give anything to make it possible. </p>
<p>“S’ okay,” Jaebeom said, barely above a whisper. He still didn’t move his hand. “It’s okay if you don’t want me to meddle with your song, too.”</p>
<p>“Jaebeom.”</p>
<p>“No, it’s fine,<em> shit</em>, I haven’t been even near a keyboard in so long, I don’t know what I was thinking, honestly.”</p>
<p>He laughed, and the sound was so sad and empty that Jinyoung wanted to cry. </p>
<p>“It was lovely,” he said. His fingers moved a fraction over Jaebeom’s hand, the skin feeling warm and dry under his touch. “I really think it adds a lot of depth already.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom huffed out a laugh and walked toward the futon, the connection severing so fast that it could’ve never existed if it wasn’t for the tingling that remained in Jinyoung’s fingertips. “Please, you literally make a <em>living </em>off this,” he said.</p>
<p>Jinyoung swallowed the knot in his throat and followed him. It was really easy to sit down next to him, the two bodies crowding in the small space. There was a lot of contact, then, their legs grazing together and their shoulders just a breath apart. </p>
<p>“I hadn’t played anything in <em>years,</em>” he admitted. “There’s no time to mess around with pointless stuff when you have concerts to record and lines to learn.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom looked up at that. “That’s bullshit,” he frowned. “That snippet is already so good, you could make so much good music, what the fuck.”</p>
<p>A bitter, deep longing flooded Jinyoung’s lungs. Usually he’d do his best to push down that spiral and keep going, but nothing that had been happening to him lately had been <em>usual. </em>He fought to find words that made sense and didn’t rip through their already delicate connection like shards. </p>
<p>“You could add the chorus.”</p>
<p>“Stop, my shit could never be good enough to be added to that, I–”</p>
<p>“Jaebeom.”</p>
<p>It had been much easier to reach for Jaebeom’s hand when they’d had the keyboard underneath them, but Jinyoung pressed on. They were close enough to share a heartbeat already, and when he placed his fingers over Jaebeom’s injured hand he felt that electric spark rekindling like a glorious explosion of sound. </p>
<p>“Show me, please?”</p>
<p>Jaebeom breathed out sharply. He didn’t move, didn’t try to go back to the keyboard, but his fingers twitched under Jinyoung. </p>
<p>And then, he started humming. </p>
<p>His voice was dim, barely disturbing the quietness of the room, but Jinyoung felt it tugging directly at his heart. Jaebeom sang like he lived, quietly and without pretentiousness, the notes flowing from him effortlessly as if they were already bubbling inside him and all he needed to do was to let them out. </p>
<p>The melody he shared had no lyrics yet, but Jinyoung felt his eyes prickling with sudden tears all the same. “Oh, wow,” he whispered as soon as it was over. </p>
<p>Jaebeom turned around and found his gaze. He looked shy, his cheeks blushing and a tiny hint of a smile on his face, connected endlessly to him through their hands and the music that still hung in the air. </p>
<p>Jinyoung looked at him, at the yellowing bruises that clung stubbornly to his skin and the shine of his eyes–both of them, because the augment was glittering just as brightly–and time stopped completely. </p>
<p>“There was a fight,” Jaebeom mumbled. “We were playing, and I let my temper get the best of me when I heard some dude shit-talking us, and…”</p>
<p>He waved toward the side of the eye implant with a dismissive laugh. “You never know what kinda weapon the guy you suddenly decided to fight might have concealed.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung hissed through his teeth, a shiver running through his spine at the implications. “Holy shit, that sounds terrifying.”</p>
<p>“An eye, a broken hand… I guess it could’ve been worse,” he sighed. Somehow, they were still facing each other, Jinyoung’s eyes nailed to a tiny piece of chapped skin on his bottom lip. </p>
<p>“Youngjae patched me up,” Jaebeom added. “He hooked me up with Jackson to get the eye replacement and he cared for me and then he and Bam had to stand there and watch me try and fail to play for five months before I could admit that I couldn’t fucking do it anymore.”</p>
<p>It seemed as silence was too thick to be beared, and words bubbled from Jaebeom’s lips like a broken dam. “I couldn’t even fucking <em>think </em>about our songs without wanting to scream for the longest time. Without remembering that I was… like that. That I <em>am </em>like that.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung’s throat was too dry to push any words through. His fingers tightened just a fraction over Jaebeom’s hand, his heart running wild. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. </p>
<p>“It’s okay,” Jaebeom said with a huff of laughter that was anything but joyful. “They’re still playing nowadays! People around here really like them.”</p>
<p>“But you never played anymore?”</p>
<p>Jaebeom shook his head after a moment. “Not really, no.”</p>
<p>If he focused, Jinyoung could hear the drumming of his own heartbeat in his ears. He pictured Jaebeom on stage, a torrent of music surging from him just as it had minutes before, the song flooding every corner it could reach with his voice. He saw blood, and a fight, and then he was seeing Jaebeom in that badly lit corner again, destroying himself with each punch against an old punching bag, that sweet voice shredding into grunts. </p>
<p>“You played for me, though.”</p>
<p>He dared to look further up, to Jaebeom’s eyes and how they glittered. Metal molded to look as realistic as possible, and a hint of excitement, and endless circuits of wire and maybe even some unshed tears.  </p>
<p>“I guess I did.”</p>
<p>In the future Jinyoung would go over this moment again and again, trying to dissect what led him to do what he did, trying to remember if he leaned forward first or if he just found Jaebeom midway. It was always fruitless, because every time he replayed it in his memory he could only recall suddenly finding Jaebeom’s lips with his own and staying close as long as he dared. </p>
<p>They were still close enough for their bodies to touch, Jinyoung closing his eyes out of fear or awe orGod knows what, Jaebeom’s mouth feeling soft and warm in ways he hadn’t realized he’d been daydreaming about until it became a reality. </p>
<p>He pulled back after a fraction of a second that could have lasted hours, Jaebeom’s breathing as loud in his ears as his own. He blinked a few times. </p>
<p>“Jinyoung–”</p>
<p>“Fuck, I’m sorry.” A moment congealed in a suspended heartbeat. </p>
<p>Jaebeom swallowed with a slight shake of his head. “S’ okay,” he mumbled. A tiny smile played on his lips, like a glimmer of hope. </p>
<p>“Let’s… let’s try that chorus tomorrow,” he added hastily. </p>
<p>Jinyoung felt himself gasping like a child before he could stop himself. “Really?”</p>
<p>And then Jaebeom was leaning forward, chasing that first, shaky kiss with one of his own. It was softer, and yet less hesitant, just a peck of warm lips that left before Jinyoung could process it. </p>
<p>“I have some ideas, I think,” he replied. The same lips that still tingled like a memory on Jinyoung’s mouth curled into a grin. “For when we’re less sleep deprived, come on.”</p>
<p>For days now, Jinyoung had draped himself over the futon and he’d watched Jaebeom lie on the bare floor with guilt trapped in his throat. After that night he had to admit to himself that the possibility of sharing the uncomfortable little space with him had been stuck in his unconscious from the first day, because, how else could he explain the ease with which they found themselves sharing it?</p>
<p>A tangle of overgrown limbs was uncomfortable no matter how many kisses you had shared with the owner, but Jaebeom felt no irritation when Jinyoung’s elbow dug into his chest. They weren’t <em>cuddling, </em>they were simply victims of Jaebeom’s old refusal to waste money in real furniture, but Jinyoung was warm and alive everywhere their bodies touched, and each breath reminded him of how real this was. </p>
<p>He was already halfway through falling asleep and confusedly hoping that he wouldn’t snore too much when he felt Jinyoung stir. </p>
<p>“We could play together, someday,” he half-whispered into the darkness of the room. </p>
<p><em>I’m not dreaming yet, </em>Jaebeom thought. <em>This is still reality, don’t forget about this tomorrow, you’re not dreaming right now. </em></p>
<p>Jinyoung didn’t seem to need an answer. He burrowed more deeply into the hard foam of the futon, and Jaebeom didn’t think coherently anymore. </p>
<p>The tiny living space shone with the artificial light of the orange sky, making shadows hide and bodies glitter, softening everything with its glow. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the end, no matter how much metal you stuck in a brain, no matter how many artificial bits replaced organic flesh, no matter how hard you tried to meld yourself to a computer, the mind still had its ways of rebounding. </p>
<p>Jinyoung had once found himself in the depths of the net, removed enough from whatever his initial plans were that he’d stumbled across pictures showing places men had abandoned with time. There had been no other choice, at the time, as the Earth gradually became less and less welcoming of life and pushed humanity to crowd in whatever space they could spare. </p>
<p>The images sent a chill down his spine for reasons he couldn’t really grasp at the time–vehicles, dwellings, machines, slowly breaking apart and disappearing beneath the ground. Nature found a way, as it always did, no matter where, and each picture of houses half-drowned in a vast desert of sand or unnaturally majestic trees cracking crystal screens into splinters lodged into Jinyoung’s throat with an unpleasant cold. </p>
<p>And then, beyond those terrifying displays of natural strength, he found himself getting used to waking up without the aid of his implanted alarm in no time at all. He hadn’t mentioned it to Mark and Jackson, and they had clearly not seen the need to repair it, so after years of jolting awake with a spike of unpleasantness through his forehead he acquainted himself with the sensation of drifting toward consciousness one day at a time. </p>
<p>Nature found a way, as it always did. </p>
<p>A confusing dream of screams and harsh voices where he had to repeat a piece of choreography over and over again even though he couldn’t feel his limbs at all gave way to consciousness through a melody. The metal clang of the keyboard seeped into the convoluted images, leaving only music in its wake, and then Jinyoung’s eyes were open and noticed how he was lying down by himself. </p>
<p>“Jaebeom,” he rasped. His mouth tasted like hell, and the leftover of a helpless scream made his voice a rough whisper. </p>
<p>The music stopped abruptly. “Oh, fuck. I’m sorry, I woke you up, didn’t I? Fuck, I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>The small living space looked somehow washed out in the searingly bright sunlight filtering through the window. Jinyoung sat up softly, huffing out a laugh when he saw Jaebeom practically kneeling on the floor apologetically. </p>
<p>“It’s fine, I should’ve probably woken up anyways, it’s fine.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom shook his head wearily, but there was a ghost of a smile on his face. “I should’ve probably gotten one of those earphone augments, I just–Jinyoungie, I think I have a chorus.”</p>
<p>His eyes shone so bright that Jinyoung felt them all the way to his core. Jaebeom’s smile looked gorgeous on him, crinkling his features into something soft and tender, like a gust of fresh air.  </p>
<p>“Holy shit, that’s great! Do you want to show it to me?”</p>
<p>Jaebeom turned around and bolted toward the food processor. “Caffeine first!” he chirped. “I won’t let you suffer through it without getting you fully awake.”</p>
<p>“Please,” Jinyoung snorted. He felt a fragility that he hadn’t noticed before in Jaebeom, as if he had cracked himself open and bled directly onto him. Jinyoung felt the insistent urge to protect it, to protect <em>him.</em> </p>
<p>The caffeine was as hot as usual, making Jinyoung wonder if there was any of the actual stuff in there or if he simply woke himself up through burning his mouth with the liquid. The taste was strong, at least. </p>
<p>They shared it mostly in silence, until Jaebeom broke it tentatively. “I tried this super expensive drink once, this one time when I won a fight against ridiculously bad odds and Yugyeommie gave me a bunch of credits.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah?”</p>
<p>He nodded. “Flavored yoghurt. Got it from the upper shopping district, a fancy place that seemed huge because it was all empty white spaces and mirrors and like, two plants. It was so tasty, though! They told me it had real strawberries in it!”</p>
<p>Jinyoung huffed out a laugh. “No synth stuff? Damn.”</p>
<p>“I know, right? It tasted incredible, I’m still thinking about it. I mean–” he stopped himself. “I bet you had all sorts of cool stuff, before.”</p>
<p>“Never tried it,” admitted Jinyoung. “Not a big fan of the fancy drinks, really.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom swallowed the remaining contents of his mug and lifted it in a mock toast with a grin. “You’re in luck, then.”</p>
<p>“I used to drink four cups of regular coffee a day, sometimes.”</p>
<p>“Damn.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung shrugged. “Don’t seem to need it when I’m not pulling 20 hour work days, wildly enough?”</p>
<p>Jaebeom had a way of laughing with his whole face, contagious in its joy. </p>
<p>Thinking about work gave Jinyoung a startle when he thought about his knee for what it seemed to be the first time in days. The bruises and cuts left by his anonymous attackers had almost faded into a memory by now, and he really hadn’t felt any extreme pain in… how long had it been? Days swirled into a pulp–a brightly colored, messy looking pulp of life. </p>
<p>“Okay, enough chattering,” he said, moving away from the thoughts that were still a bit too tender to the touch. “Show me your magic.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Music and pain had a way of intertwining in Jaebeom’s head that made him dizzy if he thought about it too hard. There were too many melodies that tasted like blood on his tongue, that conjured memories of raw screams and anger, trapping him in. Sometimes he caught himself humming a song when the worst of the nervous energy that preceded a big fight crashed over him, the notes mixing with the adrenaline and the sweat.</p>
<p>That morning, he startled himself awake with a gasp. He had been in the arena again, his fists metallic and relentless as he pounded down opponent after opponent, faceless at first but melting into faces he knew too well after a while. Jinyoungie. Staring up at him silently and not doing anything to stop Jaebeom’s fists. </p>
<p>He would’ve stopped if he’d been able to, if dreams didn’t make it so hard, if he had known better. </p>
<p>There had been no music to be heard when he’d faced the man who’d taken his eye with a hidden barb. The band had stopped, swallowed by the white noise in Jaebeom’s mind, by the white-hot flare of rage that he couldn’t contain any longer. </p>
<p>In a daze of half-consciousness, he saw himself walking toward the keyboard. He didn’t have any song in mind, just a rush of <em>something </em>begging to be freed; it was still dark outside, as dark as the city ever was in the moments before dawn. Jaebeom’s hands moved, not minding the pulses of pain flaring from his fingers, just trying to rip it out. </p>
<p>It bloomed like all flowers did–imperceptibly but without pause. By the time he noticed that he didn’t need to squint and adjust the focus in his implant to see the keys, there was enough music for something tangible to take shape. He could almost hear it, a falsetto and a sudden burst of instruments, a chord progression that hinged on pushing through, not resolving yet, begging for more. </p>
<p>A spike of pain flared through the tendons of his hand, but he barely felt it. The only sound that managed to tug him back to reality was Jinyoung, his voice hoarse with sleep. </p>
<p>Calling out his name.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Jinyoung had used the word magic to tease him, but he had to admit that music had a way of warping reality. There was no other explanation for how fast the day seemed to fly through them, minutes trickling to become hours. </p>
<p>That first hesitant melody that Jaebeom had hummed had woken him up so fast that he’d almost gotten dizzy. It was different, somehow. It was raw and delicate in a way that made Jinyoung want to curl around the notes and protect it. There were no lyrics yet, but the emotions had shone through all the same. </p>
<p>No Interface could interrupt them, not even their physical needs that seemed so far away when the music took the front seat. Jinyoung looked at Jaebeom, his eyes closed around a hum and his fingers running across the keyboard like they had never stopped, and he felt his heart straining against his chest in a feeling that was too big to put into real thoughts. </p>
<p>And then he looked back as if something had alerted him of Jinyoung’s gaze, and he lifted his eyebrows with a tiny smile. “It’s not <em>that</em> much, just a little thing—”</p>
<p>“Jaebeom. It’s incredible.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom sang with the ease of someone letting their mind wander while in the shower, and smiled just as openly. He nodded gently, as if taking it in. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>Shadows crept longer, and the buzz of the world outside never really stopped, but neither of them thought about it anymore. Jaebeom stood up two or three times to stretch with a groan.</p>
<p>“You got some water?” asked Jinyoung distractedly at one point. </p>
<p>“Shit, yeah, here,” Jaebeom hurried to reply. “The AI in the pipes broke at some point last year so it’s not filtered, though,” he added apologetically. “Or cold.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung accepted the glass with a snort. “I guess I’ll take my chances, seeing that it hasn’t killed you.”</p>
<p>Jabeom laughed again. The genuine snort made Jinyoung feel giddy as he drank the water—having someone openly appreciating his dumb jokes was a new experience for him.</p>
<p>And, yes, fine, the water might’ve not been the ice-cold, top quality stuff he was used to, but Jinyoung thought he could probably get used to some more warmth in his life. </p>
<p>The music moved on, and on, tugging them along with an invisible string that kept them thirsty for more. Jaebeom switched between MIDI packs for some more instrumentation, and the sound enveloped them higher and higher. Jinyoung closed his eyes and he saw only clouds surrounding him, lifting them to the sky—for a second, he saw something beyond the thick layers of pollution. </p>
<p>Jaebeom was the one who put what they were both thinking into words. “This could be an actual song,” he said. The old t-shirt he was wearing stretched tight across the expanse of his shoulders, muscle rippling when he twisted to crack his spine here and there. He looked up at Jinyoung, and there was real excitement in his eyes. “Like, we could actually make this a thing.”</p>
<p>The possibilities sprawled in front of Jinyoung’s eyes. “Do you know… how to do that?”</p>
<p>“Does synth coffee taste like ass?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung laughed. “Touché.”</p>
<p>A loud screech of pained metal followed by a couple of sirens jolted them out of their daydream. Jaebeom had been running his fingers through the keys idly, but the noise was close enough to make him stop. “Shit, we should probably get some food. It’s almost 4 pm.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung’s eyes opened wide. “Where did the day go?”</p>
<p>“Well, you called it my magic,” Jaebeom grinned. </p>
<p>Laughter came almost easily to Jinyoung now. For the longest time he’d trained himself to cover his mouth when he smiled, self-conscious about his weird laugh as he was, but he couldn’t find it in himself to mind; not when Jaebeom joined him with a bashful laugh of his own. </p>
<p>“Let’s stop now,” Jinyoung admonished him. He knew his teasing tone had come across perfectly when Jaebeom only laughed more loudly. </p>
<p>“Fine,” he nodded after a moment, “but I’m getting some fucking food now, what kind of host am I?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung tried to dismiss him as he stood up from the tiny chair as well. He had sweated enough that he practically got stuck to the cheap plastic, making him realize how long they had been sitting in one place. Daylight had gone from blazing white to a golden haze that made everything in the tiny room shine. “If I had been hungry you would’ve known, trust me,” he said.</p>
<p>Jaebeom’s eyes lingered on him a bit too long, considering how mundane their talk really was. He shook himself after a second, seeming to return to his train of thought. “Any preferences on synth prepackaged meals?”</p>
<p>“I… have never tried one?”</p>
<p>Now Jaebeom’s smile looked straight up mischievous. “You’re in for a treat.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>To Jinyoung’s credit, he didn’t really react <em>visibly</em> to the taste of the meal. Jaebeom had grabbed the best-looking ones at the tiny convenience store, but he wasn’t sure how old the packages were or how long they had been languishing under the fluorescent lights before he’d reached for them. </p>
<p>Jinyoung took a bite, stopped for a moment, and started chewing. Jaebeom almost felt bad. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>“Hmm? For what?”</p>
<p>“The shitty meal,  I usually like to cook things myself! I learned a lot of good recipes from my job but—” the words were out before he could stop them. “Well, I don’t really have much money left. I used to get paid by journey, you know.”</p>
<p>The fact didn’t really burn when Jaebeom said it, but it somehow crystallized into something more real through his words. He idly wondered if he could take on some easy fights to pay next week’s housing bill. For some reason fighting seemed far, far away—even more distant than his already half-forgotten job. The melody was still circling his thoughts, though, Jinyoung’s soft tune and the instrumentation and <em>oh</em>, maybe he could add a little twist to that last line, and—</p>
<p>Jinyoung refused to meet his eyes. “Sorry,” he said.</p>
<p>“Now what are <em>you</em> apologizing for?”</p>
<p>He took the time to swallow a bigger bite from the meal, carefully and slowly. Jaebeom could almost hear the thoughts twisting behind his frown. When Jinyoung finally spoke, it was tinged with shame. “I forced myself onto your life and now that my Interface is gone I can’t even pay you a decent meal in return.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom made the discovery that he would’ve taken on at least three men at once and won if it meant making Jinyoung laugh again. He had to push away a fleeting memory of how his lips tasted, plushy and soft against his own, before he could find words again. “Hey. Hey, Jinyoungie.”</p>
<p>He was still avoiding his eyes, but at least he was almost smiling now. “Since when do you call me that?”</p>
<p>“What, Jinyoungie?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung took another bite and nodded around the bits of fake meat. </p>
<p>“Don’t you like it?”</p>
<p>He took a moment to think, and finally looked up. “I don’t<em> hate</em> it,” he admitted. </p>
<p>Jaebeom’s pulse tingled under his skin. He tried to tamper down the nerves he was suddenly feeling for some fucking reason and made himself push onwards. “Jinyoungie, I don’t think you owe me anything. No, let me—” he shushed Jinyoung’s protests. “You didn’t force yourself onto my life either, okay? I <em>wanted</em> to help.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung’s face screwed up like he was trying not to cry.  “You’re too damn nice,” he said in the end, after taking a deep breath. </p>
<p>Jaebeom hummed. “I don’t think I’m a nice person, really. Don’t think I’ve ever been.” Looking at himself was mentally exhausting even in the best moments. “I’m just me.”</p>
<p>“Shut up,” replied Jinyoung, but he was almost laughing again. Jaebeom ached to hold him close.</p>
<p>They ate in silence for a moment, even if the air seemed heavy and thick with words unsaid. The oily synth sauce clung to Jaebeom’s tongue, and he couldn’t get his eyes off Jinyoung. He seemed to have bloomed in the past days, the permanent dark circles under his eyes fading along with the cuts and scrapes from that first night. He looked almost relaxed, almost in peace. </p>
<p>Jaebeom wished he knew how to stop thinking about the puff of breath that had escaped Jinyoung’s mouth when their lips had separated, a muted gasp that had sent a shiver down his spine and all the way to his fingertips. His mind got stuck in a single phrase from the song, the piano singing high and sweet in his head. He ate without thinking, without tasting anything but the memories that refused to let him go. </p>
<p>“So,” started Jinyoung when the plastic containers were almost clean, “Jackson made your implant?”</p>
<p>“Yeah! Cool shit, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung pushed himself closer, examining Jaebeom’s face with an inquisitiveness that felt intimate but not too uncomfortable. “It looks badass,” he said in the end, admiration clear in his tone. </p>
<p>Jaebeom had considered himself many things throughout his life, but <em>badass</em> had never been one of them. He snorted. “Jackson makes things that are way more badass than some generic prosthetic,” he said. “Ever wanna get a metal arm? Hit him up.”</p>
<p>Many emotions flashed through Jinyoung’s face, too quickly to be parsed. He frowned. “Even a metal leg—you know what, never mind.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom’s curiosity was piqued. He put down his chopsticks and looked directly into Jinyoung’s eyes. “Well, now you gotta tell me! You trying to become one of them augmenteds?”</p>
<p>The shitty plastic chair creaked when Jinyoung sat back. God, Jaebeom <em>had</em> to get some new furniture somehow. “Nah,” he replied. “I had… I don’t know, I never really got it checked, but I think I was nursing an exhaustion injury?” </p>
<p>His tone was so calm that Jaebeom could taste that something wasn’t right. “And they didn’t give you twenty different top-of-the-line treatments?”</p>
<p>Now there was definitely bitterness in the air. “Not really,” Jinyoung sighed. “I really didn’t have time to do anything but perform over and over, I guess.”</p>
<p>God, Jinyoung looked so defenseless, somehow. Jaebeom couldn’t deny having been thinking about his situation almost constantly, and  what he had deduced had been nothing short of infuriating. “So they made you shit money for them and couldn’t even help when you got injured? The hell?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung’s eyes were far away, somewhere less inviting. “Nah, Senior isn’t really one to care as long as I can deliver the product, you know?”</p>
<p>Anger wasn’t productive, Jaebeom knew this. Anger only led to broken bones and bloody knuckles and lots of grief. </p>
<p>Anger felt so <em>right</em>, though, sometimes. </p>
<p>He tread as lightly as he could manage. “Is this Senior… someone from your company?”</p>
<p>The laugh that bubbled from Jinyoung’s lips was practically hysterical. “My ex-manager, yeah.” His fingers were shaking slightly over the stained surface of Jaebeom’s shitty excuse for a table, drumming a nervous beat. “At least he can’t see me <em>now</em>.”</p>
<p>The last piece of the puzzle fell, knocking the entire board off balance. Jinyoung had been absolutely terrified at the under, babbling about<em> someone</em> having found him, and now Jaebeom knew who to blame. </p>
<p>“Jinyoungie…” he sighed. He was vaguely aware of his hands tightening into fists, and the sharp pangs of pain from his injured fingers pushed through the haze of anger that was beginning to surround him. </p>
<p>“It’s fine,” Jinyoung replied. His laugh was wet and he choked in a huff, and all Jaebeom could see were his hands and how they trembled.</p>
<p>“No, this isn’t fine, I’m going to fucking—”</p>
<p>“Beom.”</p>
<p>A single syllable, soft and sweet. Jaebeom found himself moving closer and sitting on the remaining spot of the chair, wondering if it would finally collapse under their combined weight. Jinyoung’s hands were warm and damp, and they shook until Jaebeom held them in his own, until he covered those pretty fingers with his blunt, scarred hands. </p>
<p>Jinyoung let out a long breath and moved just slightly closer. Once again, there was no distance between them. “I’ve been feeling like I…  <em>stopped</em> for the first time in ages,” he whispered. “Like I found you and suddenly I remembered how to breathe.”</p>
<p>A lump the size of a fist grew in Jaebeom’s throat, choking him with too many words and then none. He rubbed a thumb over Jinyoung’s wrist in tiny circles and thought about a routine that dragged him across life without allowing him to actually<em> live</em> it—he thought about the sudden rush of freedom that came with halting to a stop and becoming aware of his surroundings for once. </p>
<p>Words, most of the time, were fucking hard. There had been a time in Jaebeom’s life when he had said everything he wanted to say through music, a time when words flowed more easily if they were being sung. </p>
<p>His thumb didn’t stop even as he wrapped his free arm around Jinyoung’s shoulders. Jinyoung went willingly, his frame fitting perfectly against Jaebeom’s side and a sigh on his lips. </p>
<p>Jaebeom did not really<em> decide</em> to start humming; the melody had been in his head all day as they tweaked it and improved it and now it came out easily, gently, like a lullaby for the soul. He went through the basic verse, and then the chorus, and he knew that Jinyoung was hearing the instruments coming all together just like he was. And then he started again, and again, and Jinyoung melted under his touch and joined with a tremulous hum of his own. </p>
<p>They harmonized like they had years of practice behind them—the music grew, and grew, until it was something that went beyond the tiny living space stashed in a dirty corner of a city that did not care for them. </p>
<p>“I think I have a title,” mused Jaebeom after a moment of silence that stretched like the time between a heartbeat and the next. “I was thinking we could call it <em>Icarus</em>.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung dislodged himself from the slightly uncomfortable position he was in under Jaebeom’s grasp and looked up at him with eyes that glittered in the growing darkness of dusk. “I love it.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom never really dared to think about the future. There were too many variables that he couldn’t control, and he was not even really good at managing the parts of his life that he <em>could </em>control, and the universe had shown him time and time again that he would get less hurt if he didn’t try to dream big. That night, right there, with Jinyoung’s breathing almost syncing with his own, he felt something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. </p>
<p>The neon glow of the city that surrounded them grew brighter with the coming of the night, and, if he had allowed himself to, he would’ve probably called it hope. </p>
<hr/>
<p>“What the <em>fuck </em>are you guys doing?”</p>
<p>It only took Jinyoung a moment to place the scandalized voice—<em>Bambam.</em></p>
<p>Jaebeom jolted up, but he didn’t seem especially concerned by the fact that the kid seemed to have his door combinations. Jinyoung’s heart launched into a sprint as he tried to come up with excuses—no, I wasn’t <em>hugging </em>your friend, no, we didn’t kiss, we just—</p>
<p>And then he heard Youngjae’s laugh, and Jaebeom huffing in amusement as he stood up. “Something important must’ve happened for you two to drag your asses all the way here.”</p>
<p>“Wow, <em>two? A</em>nd I don’t exist?” chimed in Yugyeom, squeezing himself between the door frame and Youngjae’s body. “You wound me, truly.”</p>
<p>If the space had seemed small when the two of them were in, it felt downright cramped now. Yugyeom went straight for Jaebeom, digging an index finger into his chest. Jinyoung already missed how solid and warm that chest had felt when he’d held him close, but he had no time to dwell in that.</p>
<p>“I thought you had gotten yourself killed, or some shit like that!”</p>
<p>“Yugyeom, please, we’re <em>fine—”</em></p>
<p>“I tried to reach you like <em>ten </em>times, dude. I was scared as shit.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung saw the nervous energy that the kid had been accumulating and he felt sorry for him. On impulse he tried to check his own Interface, only to be met by nothing. It was a strange sensation, but he was sure he could get himself used to it.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” said Jaebeom softly. For the first time, Jinyoung noticed that he was shorter than Yugyeom. “We just—we got carried away.”</p>
<p> “I was wondering,” hummed Youngjae. “I don’t think I had ever seen your keyboard looking so clean.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom looked like he wanted to make himself look as small as possible. He wasn’t looking at any of them. “Jinyoungie and I… well… we were trying some things, I guess.”</p>
<p>Youngjae only nodded, but he looked more curious than anything else. Bambam walked closer to the instrument and tried one or two notes before realizing that it was not turned on. “You gonna show us?”</p>
<p>The noise of Jaebeom’s throat clicking in a dry swallow was loud enough to be heard. “If Jinyoungie wants to, of course.”</p>
<p>“Right!” gasped Bambam, all his attention turning to him. “You’re a fucking <em>singer, </em>man, what the hell! You didn’t tell us that part!”</p>
<p>They all seemed relieved to change the focus of the conversation, Jaebeom more than anyone. Jinyoung wasn’t used to having so many people <em>truly </em>pay attention to his words, but he nodded. “Used to be, yeah. And I’d love to share it, of course!”</p>
<p>“Maybe… when it’s ready?” offered Jaebeom. “Soon.”</p>
<p>“Oh, of course.”</p>
<p>Bambam’s smile was as bright as everything else about him. He gave Jinyoung a big thumbs up. “Hell yeah, man!”</p>
<p>Youngjae nodded again. “When was the last time you guys ate?”</p>
<p>“Oh, we had some synth meals!” replied Jinyoung. “Just now, actually.”</p>
<p>“You had—Jaebeom gave you <em>what?”</em></p>
<p>They started talking all at once over Jaebeom’s stuttering explanation.</p>
<p>“I don’t care that you’re broke! You can’t give your guests that shit, bro!”</p>
<p>“You’re lucky Jinyoung didn’t <em>die!”</em></p>
<p>The three of them crowded around Jinyoung as if trying to protect him. “We’re getting you some <em>real </em>food, worry not,” said Youngjae solemnly. His stare toward Jaebeom was fulminating. “Call Mark and Jackson! And <em>you </em>can come too, I guess.”</p>
<p>“You’re all ridiculous,” Jaebeom laughed as he started ushering the little group out the door. “You still know how much I owe you, right? I’ll pay you as soon as I can.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom’s laughter made Jinyoung’s chest feel light and airy, not too different from the breathy shudder that overcame every time he heard him sing. It was a song in itself, a melody wrapped in a smile, and Jinyoung felt privy to a secret gift that he wanted to keep close for a long time.</p>
<p>The food was shockingly good, too. Jinyoung chastised himself for having thought even in passing that the Under wouldn’t be able to offer quality; the place he got enthusiastically dragged into by Bambam and Yugyeom grabbing his hands was a cramped stall with a faded sign on the front, but the tiny lady behind the counter placed two roasted chops in his hands that tasted better than any <em>real </em>meat he remembered trying.</p>
<p>Being a so-called celebrity had included an endless amount of dinners and meetings with higher-ups and potential investors, some of them going far enough to offer him genuine organic meat that probably cost more than his entire wardrobe, but as the chops melted in his mouth he had to admit that the taste was simply superior.</p>
<p>“She has her secret recipe for the sauce,” Jaebeom told him between bite and bite. “She would die before letting anyone know it, no matter how hard you tried.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung laughed. “Fair enough.”</p>
<p>They were eating on the street, tiny and cramped as it was between stalls, but the warmth and the air thick with dozens of dishes being prepared at once felt less oppressive than before. Jinyoung almost felt comfortable, sitting on what passed for a curb and listening to the cacophony of voices that rose toward the low ceiling like smoke. A serving bot refurbished as an advertising machine walked past them, loudly announcing the times for the night’s fights. Jinyoung caught a significant look between Jaebeom and Yugyeom, who seemed to be asking a question with his eyebrows alone, but Jaebeom just shook his head imperceptibly before going back to his meat.</p>
<p>“So good,” sighed Youngjae, licking the last drops of sauce from his fingers. “See, Jinyoung? We can actually treat you right!”</p>
<p>Jaebeom grumbled something about embarrassing him. He had a drop of sauce stuck to his lower lip, and there was an insistent voice in Jinyoung’s head telling him to lick it clean.</p>
<p>He shook his head and reached with his thumb instead. Jaebeom breathed in a tiny gasp, looking at Jinyoung’s finger for a moment before settling on his eyes. “Sauce?” he grinned.</p>
<p>God, Jinyoung could’ve gotten drunk in that cocky smile. “Yeah,” he replied, trying as hard as he could to stay casual.</p>
<p>“Thanks.”</p>
<p>Neon flickered on and off all over the street, lights dancing all over them. The city felt a mile away even if Jinyoung was aware of it existing right above their heads—the Under was a bubble of its own.</p>
<p>Jinyoung found himself drifting closer to Jaebeom as they finished their food. He was staring, he knew it, trying to memorize his pretty Cupid’s bow and the elegant arch of his nose. A tiny stud glittered on his nostril; it matched the metal of his implanted eye perfectly. And, right under his eyebrow where the implant started, he saw two tiny moles that looked almost too perfectly shaped to be natural.</p>
<p>A tiny constellation. Jinyoung wondered if stars looked as mesmerizing as the stories always said, if they really could look more beautiful than this.</p>
<p>“You’re staring.”</p>
<p>“Do you want me to stop?”</p>
<p>He laughed sheepishly. “You know, I’ve been thinking of performing at a friend’s bar, if you want.”</p>
<p>He looked shy enough that Jinyoung had mercy on him and didn’t really tease him more about how he was changing the subject. “Performing in front of people sounds scary. No, listen!” he defended himself when Jaebeom looked up incredulously. “I always just record in front of the cameras! And they can fix all my mistakes, and we can do retakes, and—”</p>
<p>Jaebeom’s touch came like a breeze, gentle and soothing even if his fingertips were still a bit sticky from the sauce. “It’s a tiny bar,” he said, reassuring. “But it’s okay if you don’t want it yet.”</p>
<p>A gust of hot air that probably came from some shop door opening rushed around them, ruffling some old wrappers and trash in its wake. Jinyoung looked across the street toward the rest of the group, who seemed to all be pretending very hard to talk while also trying their best to eavesdrop. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling.</p>
<p>“Will they come to hear us, if we ask them?”</p>
<p>Jaebeom grinned. “I think you would have a hard time convincing them <em>not </em>to come.”</p>
<p>A new flavor of adrenaline began to pool in Jinyoung’s stomach, still tense and expecting but without the dread that usually accompanied it. He sighed. “God, we’re going to have to rehearse so much.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom cackled at that and started walking back to the group. “We’ll kill it, don’t worry.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Will you be okay?”</p>
<p>The soundcheck was over, but Jaebeom couldn’t stop going through the music again and again. The song had embedded itself in his brain, its path easy and well trodden after singing it even in his dreams, but the old fear was still latent under his skin. He heard Jinyoung’s question, but he could only answer with a distracted hum.</p>
<p>He had forced himself to look nonchalant until the last moment for Jinyoung, but as he walked toward the tiny room where they were keeping their equipment he saw his fingers trembling, and reality overwhelmed him all at once. He held up his left hand in front of his eyes and flexed the ring and the pinky, recently freed from the splinter.</p>
<p>He walked around muffled, with the funny feeling of being underwater. His head throbbed with a phantom pain that he wished he could forget about, sparking right behind his left eye.</p>
<p>“Jaebeom!”</p>
<p>The voice was loud enough to rip him out of his downward spiral for a second. He attempted a feeble smile when he saw Chaeyoung. “Hey.”</p>
<p>Chaeyoung had a way of carrying herself that usually intimidated people, but she softened immediately upon seeing him. “It’s really good to see you back.”</p>
<p>He shrugged. “We’re trying something out, I guess.”</p>
<p>“That’s right,” she nodded. The intelligent tattoos swirled all over her skin, glowing softly and never staying the same for more than a moment. “I like the new guy!”</p>
<p>Jinyoung might’ve been politely pretending not to hear until then, but at that he perked up. “Hi! I’m—”</p>
<p>“Jinyoung, yeah! Heard a lot about you,” Chaeyoung said with a wink that was meant to go in Jaebeom’s direction. Even with the anxiety threatening to burst his heart cleanly from his chest, he found himself blushing.</p>
<p>“Yeah, we—we’re trying this out,” nodded Jinyoung sagely.</p>
<p>Chaeyoung stood for just one moment before she tapped her ear implant and nodded at it. “Gotta go take care of this,” she said. “You guys have fun, okay?”</p>
<p>“She’s sweet,” commented Jinyoung when she walked out.</p>
<p>“She really is,” Jaebeom nodded. “She helped the band a lot, back in the day.”</p>
<p>His stomach felt like it was full of jelly—cold and queasy. Jinyoung knew, of course. Somehow he always seemed to know.</p>
<p>“Beom. Will you be okay?”</p>
<p>He nodded. “I really think I should do this.”</p>
<p>And he truly did. Above the nerves, beyond the memories that crowded behind his eyes and threatened to leak out, he felt the song aching to come out.</p>
<p>For as long as he could remember, the minutes and hours he spent performing had always smudged together into a single point of relief. Everything that built up for an eternity finally burst open, and he couldn’t remember singing a single note and yet somehow he experienced them all. And this time, after spending so long keeping himself away that he had feared his heart would rust itself shut, he felt it again.</p>
<p>It was not a <em>flawless </em>performance; they rarely were, after all. But when he stood on the corner behind his keyboard and looked up to see Jinyoung looking back at him with a grin that was equal parts nerves and excitement, the relief was <em>there.</em></p>
<p>He sang like his next breath depended on it, and he heard Jinyoung just as clearly. Their voices harmonized as one, the lyrics that they had poured over for nights on end tasting more real than ever before.</p>
<p>
  <em>I’m not sure of this path, but I’ll fly, I’ll fly.</em>
</p>
<p>Tears were prickling in Jaebeom’s eyes by the time they finished, and his heart felt like he had run for an hour. He resurfaced with a gasp. The water did no longer go above his head, and he could breathe, and he saw all his friends and he heard Jackson whooping loudly as they cheered for them, and it felt <em>so </em>good.</p>
<p>“Holy shit, that was amazing!” yelled Bambam when they all crowded in the backroom as Jaebeom struggled to put the keyboard back in its case. “Bro, I have it all recorded, look!”</p>
<p>The kid seemed as hyped as if <em>Icarus </em>had been a heavy metal track performed for a moshing crowd, bless his soul. He grinned as he sent the recording to Jaebeom’s Interface. “You guys are <em>amazing!”</em></p>
<p>“So… I’m hoping we’re getting a collab soon?” said Mark, speaking at everyone at once.</p>
<p>Jaebeom nodded. “Definitely.”</p>
<p>A smile finally broke in Youngjae’s face. The relief that Jaebeom was experimenting seemed to be reflected on him. “That’s great! Jinyoung’s voice will fit really well with us, I think.”</p>
<p>The kids reminded Jinyoung of a pack of puppies, loud and excited and seemingly ready to flop into a pile of hugs at any time. He loved it. For a moment he lost himself in an old sign on the wall, some kind of advertisement for the Interface. He made a mental note to ask Jaebeom for the recording of the performance later—maybe they’d be able to find some old physical screen that still worked so he could watch.</p>
<p>They walked out one by one, promising to be waiting outside, until it was only Jaebeom and him and the flickering light of a soda dispensing machine with a single, flickering light bulb left. The silence didn’t itch him—if anything, it felt comfortable.</p>
<p>“That was really cool,” he said after a moment.</p>
<p>Jaebeom nodded. “Magical.”</p>
<p>“You’re so corny.”</p>
<p>“Hey!” Jaebeom looked genuinely offended for a moment. “You started it, don’t look at me like that!”</p>
<p>They dissolved in giggles that were still mildly hysterical in the residual adrenaline of the performance. Jinyoung thought he wouldn’t get a better opening, so he stuck a hand in his pocket and got the sweet bar out. “Here.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom looked at the bar, and then at Jinyoung’s face, and then back at the candy. His expression softened. “You’re <em>so </em>corny,” he said, but it was just a hushed whisper, and his hand was already reaching to take it.</p>
<p>“I asked Jackson to buy it for me,” he confessed. “Thank you—for everything.”</p>
<p>Even after taking the sweet, Jaebeom held on to Jinyoung’s hand. He pulled him closer, until he could wrap an arm around his waist, frowning slightly as if he was trying to say something but he couldn’t find a way to do it.</p>
<p>And then he was kissing him again, more purposefully this time, and words didn’t matter anymore.</p>
<p>If that night at the couch had been a drop of water in a desert, this was the entire sky opening and pouring down a storm. Jaebeom kissed like he was hungry, like he couldn’t get enough of him, pressing him close and holding him as his tongue pushed deeper into his mouth. Jinyoung swallowed a whimper and he felt his heart beating like an electrical current all the way to his fingertips.</p>
<p>He found himself being pushed backwards until there was only the wall pressed against his back. Jaebeom was overwhelming in the most delicious sense of the word, Jinyoung could manage to think. Surfacing for air seemed like a waste of time; their lips found each other again and again.</p>
<p>He buried a hand in Jaebeom’s hair, trying desperately to keep him as close as he could, and he received a gasp in return that made his legs go weak. He wanted to touch more, to discover every little sound Jaebeom could make, to unravel every secret of his whimpers and his tears and his smile.</p>
<p>Time didn’t exist. Jinyoung was ready to lose himself for an eternity and enjoy every moment of it when he felt Jaebeom pulling back with a groan.</p>
<p>His eyes flew quickly as he checked his Interface. “The kids are waiting for us, they say we horndogs should wait until we’re home to—” he winced. “Get all over each other. Mark’s words, not mine.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung was still trying to catch his breath, but he couldn’t hold back a snort. “Nice.” His heartbeat was so loud in his ears that he feared Jaebeom would hear it as well.</p>
<p>He pulled back from where he’d been basically pushing Jinyoung against the wall and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung reached up and planted a last peck on his lips. “Make it up to me later?”</p>
<p>The look in Jaebeom’s eyes was nothing short of hungry. He nodded, before turning around to grab his things. “Wait, they took the keyboard with them already?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung frowned. “They… might have? I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention.”</p>
<p>He smirked, his face all goofy cockiness. “Right, because you only had eyes for me.”</p>
<p>“Oh, shut up.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>It was funny how life molded itself around how you felt about it. Jaebeom found himself going through his reality one sleepless night, limbs still light and shaky with the adrenaline of a performance, and he surprised himself to discover that he was happy.</p>
<p>He reached towards Jinyoung, thirsty for a touch but trying his best to not wake him up. He supposed that, by now, the man was getting used to how close Jaebeom liked to hold him while he slept.</p>
<p>For most of his life, he’d held on to a blanket, to a pillow, to the nearest warm body. It had never felt so vivid as <em>this. </em>Jaebeom heard him snore just slightly, and the sound made his heart beat faster for some reason he had no time to decode.</p>
<p>They had performed <em>Coming Home </em>for the first time that evening, tight and slick over the bassline they’d come up with during a long night of brainstorming. It was their routine, now; music seemed to burst forth when they sat down together, and all they had to do was write it down.</p>
<p>Warm, rusted light dripped over the two bodies pressed together on a tiny futon. Jaebeom gave up on sleeping for the moment and opened up his Interface, trying his best to wade through the sea of notifications that rushed to view. He thought he was slowly getting used to actually garnering attention in the net, as there seemed to be a bustling independent music scene that was paying close attention to the performances that were recorded through Interfaces and uploaded for everyone to see, but seeing himself in the videos was still a bit disconcerting.</p>
<p>Jinyoung had talked about it once, as they watched themselves perform in a crowded basement. The physical screen was glitchy and cracked, but it was the best they had, as Jinyoung refused to get his Interface back—he saw himself on the old crystal screen with his lips parted open and an unreadable expression on his face.</p>
<p>They didn’t watch them often, really.</p>
<p>Jaebeom switched his Interface off and buried his face in Jinyoung’s hair. He smelled like the shampoo they shared now; the income from their performances was enough that they could actually afford to buy tiny luxuries here and there. Jinyoung had grinned as he’d picked it from the shelf, clearly elated.</p>
<p>A new melody wormed its way to Jaebeom’s mind as he drifted off to sleep. It stayed with him through his dreams, where he still saw himself bloody and shattered, but the music filled all the cracks and soothed him.</p>
<p>Jinyoung dreamed of lyrics that stuck to him like honey, and he was running away, and no matter how fast he ran a shadow always fell on him and covered completely.</p>
<p>He woke up with Jaebeom’s arms wrapped tight around him, and he had a minute to breathe before needing to move. Dreams faded like mist against the white expanse of the morning sky, and there was a new bar that had invited them to perform that night, and it was like a promise of a good time.</p>
<p>Time felt like a gift that Jinyoung was finally allowed to spend on himself, and he realized with a start that he was happy.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Staff rooms had a smell that Jaebeom had learned to recognize back during his days playing with the kids—a tinge of sweat mixed with the smoke from a handful of e-cigs, and the taste of air in a room that went stale when closed for long periods of time. Bar owners always apologized about the mess when they dropped by with their instruments and amps, but Jaebeom had never stopped feeling like they were doing them a favor by giving them a space for their things at all.</p>
<p>He tasted sharp in the back of his tongue, as the nerves spread through his body and made him feel like there was something vibrating under his skin. He had stolen a look through the door earlier, and the place was already pretty much full—a place that was already larger than most bars they had played in so far.</p>
<p>The kids were there, as well, as they always were when they could create a free slot in their schedules. Jaebeom was already looking forward to their faces in the crowd, their encouraging smiles, a bright spot in an already dazzling moment.</p>
<p>He looked up from his keyboard as he did his best to tune it and caught Jinyoung’s eyes. He looked even more pale than usual, and Jaebeom felt the sudden need to soothe him before it was time to go up.</p>
<p>“Ready to go?” he smiled as he walked closer.</p>
<p>Jinyoung tried to return the smile but he faltered. “Are you?”</p>
<p>“I’m always ready, you know me!” Jaebeom replied. He tried to place the look in Jinyoung’s eyes, frowning. He looked <em>haunted.</em></p>
<p>“Jinyoungie?”</p>
<p>“Mhmm?”</p>
<p>“You know you can tell me anything, right?”</p>
<p>Sometimes, it only took a gentle word at the right time for the dam to break. Jinyoung sighed and rubbed his hands over his eyes, his fingers shaking.</p>
<p>“I thought—it’s stupid, never mind.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom reached for him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Jinyoung still felt as fragile as that first night sometimes, as if a strong wind would be able to snatch him away. It made Jaebeom wish he could use his fists against the wind sometimes, a childish, pointless thought.</p>
<p>“Is it about the songs?” They had managed to polish the new song right on time, working day and night as if chasing a flow that could run away from them if they weren’t fast enough.</p>
<p>Jinyoung laughed miserably. “The songs are fine, I just—I thought I saw Senior in the audience.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom’s blood froze in his veins. “Are you… are you sure?”</p>
<p>“It’s fine, I’m probably imagining things,” Jinyoung sighed, leaning away from Jaebeom’s touch. “I get paranoid sometimes.”</p>
<p>“Jinyoungie…”</p>
<p>“No, it’s fine, really! I shouldn’t have brought it up, I’ll be <em>fine.”</em></p>
<p>Jaebeom forced himself to think, his mind racing. He saw all the performances in the net, right there for anyone to see, and Jinyoung’s smile as he sang, and, <em>fuck, </em>how could they have been so stupid?</p>
<p>All songs were gone. Rational thought faded into nothing, replaced by panic, and he held Jinyoung as close as he could, as if a tight grip would keep him from getting snatched away. He saw a yawning abyss where Jinyoung was, and the thought alone made his heart squeeze with dread.</p>
<p>When the knock on the door came, it almost felt inevitable. It resounded in Jinyoung’s chest like a gunshot, dry and final. He pried Jaebeom’s fingers from his waist one by one, gently, steeling himself against what he knew was coming, and he turned around with a fist of fear squeezing tightly around his chest.</p>
<p>Did Senior kick the door open? There was no way of really knowing, but Jinyoung didn’t put it past him. The wood creaked and gave in, all alarms and warning systems going out, but all Jinyoung could see was the massive form that towered over him as he walked in.</p>
<p>The man smiled, and there was venom dripping from those teeth. “Our Jinyoung!”</p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p>
<p>It was hard to forget old habits. His voice alone was enough to make Jinyoung look down, a tight hand pressing on his neck, forcing him to be polite. He opened his mouth, but all he could do was feel his teeth chattering.</p>
<p>All his brain could think about was <em>fuck, fuck, fuck, </em>his life shattered in an instant like glass crashing against the floor. He had a last fleeting thought about their setlist—desperate, regretful, already mourning what was dead for good now.</p>
<p>“Please leave Jaebeom out of this,” he whispered.</p>
<p>The man snickered. “Who?”</p>
<p>“Just—” fear clogged his throat and made thinking impossible. He thought of Jaebeom, and just how much he’d done for him, and he saw Senior using his contacts in high places to punish him for daring to get close to him, and nausea rose up his throat. “Please. Just take me, it’s okay.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom saw nothing but darkness. He wondered if he had blacked out and his nightmares were playing at twice the regular speed to hurt him more than usual, haunting him with a viciousness that was too ugly to be fully real. But the man was there, smiling like he wanted to swallow Jinyoung whole, and Jaebeom felt as useless as the old tech that he always saw discarded to the curb.</p>
<p>“You didn’t really make it too hard for me to find you, did you?” Senior continued. “It looks almost like you were <em>trying </em>to be discovered. The free life of the bottom tier isn’t as romantic as it seems, right?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung tasted bile. He had never felt smaller, not even when he had dropped to the ground in front of the cameras, not even when he had been attacked—something in Senior’s tone made him feel like a clueless child that needs correcting. He told himself he wouldn’t cry, but, then again, he wasn’t very good at keeping his own promises.</p>
<p>“I’ll go with you, I’ll pay, I’ll do whatever, just—not Jaebeom, <em>please.”</em></p>
<p>“You always were so good at grovelling.” Senior’s voice was laced with disgust.</p>
<p>“Who the fuck do you think you are?”</p>
<p>Jaebeom surprised himself when his words came out. Gritting his teeth until they hurt didn’t make the anger boil any less brightly. He zeroed on Jinyoung’s hands and how they shook at his sides, limply, like a defeated bird whose shelter had been destroyed by a storm. “No, really, who the fuck are you to come here like this?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung’s worried murmur was drowned by Senior as he looked past him for the first time. He appraised Jaebeom like someone would look at an interesting pet, up and down, before deciding he wasn’t worth his time.</p>
<p>“You’d better not get involved if you want this to end cleanly,” he said distractedly in the end. “Here’s how this is going to work, sweetheart—Jinyoung is coming with me, and I’ll bring the press the scoop of the year by revealing your little scheme here and your breaches of contract, and you’re going to stay here unless you want me to contact my friends and run your name through the system to look for any illegalities.”</p>
<p>“You can’t just fucking—”</p>
<p>“Oh, I sure can! That little implant of yours looks illegally installed to me, I could start digging there, you know? And are the permits for this dirty dump all up to date?”</p>
<p>Anger was a star gone supernova, a thousand net links going off at once, the pain of an eye bursting to never see again. Jaebeom wasn’t aware of moving forward until he felt Jinyoung’s arm holding him back, as if he’d used the last of his strength to lift it.</p>
<p>“It’s okay, Beom, I’m sorry, I’m <em>sorry—”</em></p>
<p>“I’ll fucking end him,” Jaebeom grunted. Bone was more brittle than iron, but he would pulverize his own fists before letting Jinyoung be taken away from him. “He can’t do shit to you, he’ll have to go through my fucking dead body first.”</p>
<p>The air in the room was thick enough for breathing to hurt. Jinyoung’s brain ditched Senior and his own ruined future in favor of something more real, more urgent. He felt Jaebeom’s anger radiating in waves next to him, pulsing like a wound that was taking too long to heal.</p>
<p>He saw it all unfolding with a deep, growing dread. He saw Jaebeom deep in one of those prison holes nobody ever came out of, Senior throwing enough counts of violence and assault at him to keep him down. He couldn’t let Jaebeom throw his life away for him. He fucking <em>couldn’t.</em></p>
<p>Senior seemed to be getting bored of them. “Your boyfriend here is a feisty one,” he chuckled. “Or is he your pet dog?”</p>
<p>For some reason, those were the words that made something snap. Jaebeom hissed something that sounded like <em>fucking corporate asshole bastard, </em>and Jinyoung remembered how his fingers felt tangled in his hand swirling together with the sound of his laugh; and, from somewhere deep and hidden under the terror, he found the song.</p>
<p>Looking up still made nausea rush to the back of his throat, acrid and strong. His surroundings felt wrong, warped, even, but he forced his voice to be as steady as possible.</p>
<p>“You got nothing on me.”</p>
<p>He pressed his arm backwards, and Jaebeom’s body was a reassuring presence even as he shook with anger. He repeated it to himself over and over, trying to make it real, trying to believe it. “Hell,” he laughed, “you can’t even prove that I am who you say I am.”</p>
<p>A ray of bright light sliced through the darkness, like a saving rope thrown at the last possible moment. Jaebeom heard Jinyoung’s voice, low, composed, and he held onto it like a valve to keep him from exploding completely.</p>
<p>“What’s to say you didn’t just get hold of some poor bastard off the streets and gave him enough plastic surgery to make him look convincingly like the cash cow that you lost so tragically months ago?” Jinyoung continued, his voice growing stronger with each word. “You’re losing your touch, <em>Senior. </em>So pathetic.”</p>
<p>He spat out the last word with what sounded like years of accumulated emotion. Jaebeom swallowed through a thick knot of worry, and he felt only admiration seeping in. On impulse, he reached for the hand that had been holding him back and laced his fingers through Jinyoung’s, who gave him a quick squeeze.</p>
<p>Senior was stammering. “You—you little brat, I can kick you down just like I built you up, don’t fucking test me.”</p>
<p>Jaebeom worried at a tiny bit of skin from his lips with his teeth. There were a dozen acid retorts on the tip of his tongue, but <em>something </em>held him back. Maybe it was the tense energy that he heard in Jinyoung’s words, the set of his jaw as he looked up at the massive man in front of him—maybe it was the words themselves and the achy sort of pride that they awakened in him.</p>
<p>Maybe it was the memories of a hundred hours spent tangled into each other, melodies turning into touches that turned into moans that he wanted to preserve forever. There was a lot in Jaebeom’s life that he wished he could rub off and forget, worrying that the dark, bloody spots would taint the good, but a tug in his heart held him back, whispering to him that <em>maybe </em>he didn’t have to hurt to be okay.</p>
<p>Your <em>boyfriend, </em>had said Senior with a scowl. The word turned round and round in his thoughts, and the torrent of molten brass in his veins slowed down to a crawl.</p>
<p>And Jinyoung kept going, mentioning laws and procedures and money and so many other things that went over his head, but that clearly reached Senior right where he needed him. He stood up straight like an ant in front of a hurricane, and his eyes never faltered even if his voice rose and fell in a shudder here and there.</p>
<p>“I’m staying, and you can’t do shit about it,” he said. His fingers felt clammy and warm in Jaebeom’s grasp. “You can’t take me away from my home.”</p>
<p>The man huffed out a laugh and shook his head mockingly. “Only a couple of weeks around these people and you’ve already forgotten your place.”</p>
<p>“<em>These </em>people?” hissed Jaebeom. “Nothing will stop <em>these people </em>from kicking your ass right here in this room, you know this, right?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung hummed. “Me included, honestly.”</p>
<p>Senior’s sweaty skin was taking on a furiously red tinge, and Jaebeom couldn’t help but think that he looked a bit ridiculous in his fancy suit, surrounded by old beer boxes and broken augments.</p>
<p>Jaebeom shrugged. “You’re one of us now apparently, so…”</p>
<p>“You little bitches better cover your asses,” Senior huffed. “I have friends, okay? I’ll <em>haunt </em>you, Jinyoung.”</p>
<p>“I’ll send you a postcard,” replied Jinyoung just as quickly. Jaebeom snorted.</p>
<p>The man turned on his heels and disappeared through the yawning hole of the open door.</p>
<p>“Like a defeated dog,” Jinyoung mused. His high didn’t last long, however; his shoulders slumped almost immediately and he deflated with a shuddering sigh.</p>
<p>“Jinyoungie, I—”</p>
<p>“Holy shit, did we just <em>do </em>that?”</p>
<p>The pitch of his voice was borderline hysterical. Jaebeom tugged him close, and only when he felt how much he was shaking against his chest he noticed the violent drumming of his own heart.</p>
<p>Adrenaline sang like sparks in his nerves, leaving exhaustion in its wake. Jaebeom gulped in a mouthful of air and tried to remember how to speak.</p>
<p>“You just did that, yes.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung’s voice sounded muffled against his chest. “Idiot. <em>We </em>just did it.” The warmth of his breath spread through Jaebeom’s core. “You were here for me.”</p>
<p>“Of course I was, where else did you think I would be?”</p>
<p>Jinyoung pulled back to look at him, and his eyes were starry with tears. “Thank you,” he whispered.</p>
<p>This time, Jaebeom didn’t falter. “Hey. Thank <em>you</em>.”</p>
<p>And they found each other’s lips, and kissed like it was the last moment they had together and also the beginning of something brand new, warm and familiar and yet so, so, bright.</p>
<p>The music had never sounded better than that night. Jaebeom turned of his Interface and allowed the feeling to take over, pushing him to sing above and beyond—and Jinyoung was right next to him, and his grin was relief and gratitude and hope, and when the crowd begged for an encore they harmonized together to <em>Icarus </em>again, just like the first time.</p>
<p>The city didn’t care, the streets didn’t hear anything beyond the usual rumble, but that night, under a faded neon sign that flickered with a buzz, they held each other and it felt electrifying.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“You did not really order that.”</p>
<p>Bambam snickered and raised the glass higher. “What, you don’t like a nice red in the evening?”</p>
<p>“I—” Jaebeom stammered, “it’s not that, how much does that fucking cost? Bambam, is that organic?”</p>
<p>Bambam motioned them to sit down with a polite nod. “Does it matter? I’m friends with famed artists now, the least I could do is get some non-synth wine in return!”</p>
<p>Jaebeom searched for some kind of aid from Jinyoung, but all he saw was his whole face scrunched up with laughter. He couldn’t deny it was a soothing sight.</p>
<p>“I mean, he isn’t wrong,” Jinyoung cackled. He accepted his seat and opened the holographic menu.  </p>
<p>Fuck, this place had an holographic menu. The kids had chosen it, after pouring over e-reviews for hours to choose the fanciest, most gaudy looking eatery in the zone. They had gone shopping for outfits, too—Jaebeom had only grudgingly accepted to wear the ridiculously tight-fitting suit that they had chosen for him when he’d seen Jinyoung’s reaction to it. </p>
<p>Jackson ripped one of the complimentary bread buns from the basket in half and shoved one half in his mouth before offering the other one to Jaebeom. “Dude, this is real food! Can you fucking believe it!”</p>
<p>Even though he had the inkling that their little group stuck out from the elegant atmosphere like a sore thumb, Jaebeom couldn’t help a hearty laugh. He tried the bread, and—shit, it did really feel like non-synth. Would you look at that. </p>
<p>Yugyeom interrupted them with a gentle shush that turned insistent when they didn’t pay attention to him immediately. He swirled his own glass around, pretending to know what the hell he was doing, before raising it for a toast. The glass was one of those modern ones that interacted with Interfaces to inform the drinker of its qualities and characteristics, but Jaebeom ignored it in favor of listening to the kid. </p>
<p>“To all of us,” Yugyeom grinned. “And to Jinyoung and Jaebeom!”</p>
<p>“Ooh, putting Jaebeom last, I see you,” laughed Youngjae. </p>
<p>“I didn’t—oh my God, shut up!” </p>
<p>Mark emptied his whole glass in one go before putting it back down delicately. “Nice show out there,” he said. </p>
<p>Jinyoung felt a trickle of giddiness in his chest. “Thanks!” he replied. “I’m glad the band wanted to give it a try, after all.”</p>
<p>“Are you kidding me?” Jackson laughed. He spoke lightly, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness in his words. “I’ve spent months listening to them talk about how much they wish they could play with you!”</p>
<p>Bambam and Youngjae laughed, but neither of them really denied it before going back to pouring through the massive menu that promised a variety of international dishes and real, organically sourced ingredients. Jinyoung took another sip of wine, and even if it brought memories of tense business meetings and angry men he thought he could be used to tasting it among friends. </p>
<p>“So,” Bambam prodded when they were halfway through their feast, “what else are you guys going to buy with all this money?”</p>
<p>Jaebeom’s face felt hot. Somehow thinking about the possibility of a real future, with real plans, with someone real at his side, was overwhelming in a way that he tried to push down unsuccessfully. </p>
<p>He focused on what he knew he could put into words instead. “You’re ridiculous, oh my God, stop acting like we won the lottery.”</p>
<p>He’d received a gift from Jinyoung earlier that day, actually. Jaebeom could still feel the small tube of lip balm in his pocket, and the fact that he had remembered about it kept tugging his lips into a smile. <em>As if I could forget, seeing the state of your lips all day, </em>Jinyoung had said, and he’d been grinning. </p>
<p>“You’re making real money off your performances, dude, that’s so cool!” Yugyeom was quick to retort. “Let us shower with praise, come on.”</p>
<p>Jinyoung’s hand found its way to Jaebeom’s lap, and it stayed there. Jaebeom tried hard to contain a smile and failed. “We thought maybe… we could buy a real bed?”</p>
<p>“Unbelievable.”</p>
<p>“It’s not that I don’t like his futon,” Jinyoung nodded, “but my back is kind of suffering, you know?”</p>
<p>Jackson was shaking his head in disbelief. “Absolutely unbelievable. He still has you sleeping on that junk?”</p>
<p>“Practically as thick as a slice of processed cheese,” giggled Mark unhelpfully. </p>
<p>“Listen! He’s—we—”</p>
<p>Youngjae snickered. “Compose a few more songs and you might even get some bedsheets on top of that!”</p>
<p>Jinyoung saw the worry in Jaebeom’s face and felt it in the hand squeezing his own. “I’m sleeping really well, I can’t complain.”</p>
<p>He should’ve thought that one better, in hindsight. The boys whistled and whooped, and now they were both blushing like teenagers again. Jaebeom rubbed at the seam between skin and metal in his implant and groaned. “Jinyoungie, let’s get out of here.”</p>
<p>Jackson whined. “You haven’t even tried the meat yet!”</p>
<p>Jinyoung didn’t feel the need to hide his laughter behind his hands anymore. He felt comfortable, secure, and he timidly allowed the feeling to take root in him. </p>
<p>It was way past midnight when they walked out into the thick, humid air of the street. Jaebeom looked up at the endless, unchanging expanse of the sky, its orange glow lighting up everything around them like embers in a fire that never went out. Jinyoung sighed happily next to him, and when he looked down he saw a million stars glittering in his eyes.</p>
<p>Jaebeom wrapped an arm around his waist, decided to keep him as close as he could. “Let’s go home.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I started writing this fic in July 2020 and it's finally done it's WILD</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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